Captain!
by Sloshi
Summary: Passing lewd notes in class is all fun and games—that is, until it smacks a certain baseball captain upside the head. Japan!highschool AU [Sasusaku / Slowburn] Eventual Smut
1. Prologue

**A/N: FIRST I'D JUST LIKE TO MAKE A SHOUTOUT TO ALL THOSE WHO HAVE HELPED THIS STORY COME TO LIFE, AND WHO HAVE HELPED ME SO MUCH THROUGHOUT THIS STORY! So here we go, shout out to**** Alice, Audrey, Patti, Flavia, Ro, and Alicia**** for ALL BEING THERE FOR ME AKSJHDASJKHD AND TO MY EDITORS: ALICE & AUDREY FOR MAKING THIS STORY FLAWLESS, AND DOUBLE SHOUTOUT TO ****AUDREY**** FOR literally making this story even possible, as she is responsible for a lot of this plot as well. I love you guys so much. Seriously.**

**This story is an AU, and it is a SLOW BURN which will eventually include smut. So be on the look out for that steamy shit. hehehe. Also, I have done my best to keep everyone in character. Additionally the only shit I know about baseball comes from my experience from softball (for like a year) so some of this might not be accurate and I apologize. **

**Although this story takes place, I am not Japanese nor have I ever been to Japan, so this story will be fairly AMERICANIZED. I apologize if it's not entirely accurate, but I assure you I have tried :D **

**One last thing:**** This story will also include some ****SOUNDTRACK****, and I will include the songs along with the chapters as they come. **

**THANKS AGAIN!**

**~ CAPTAIN! ~**

**PROLOGUE**

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"—recognizes the cell as the basic unit of life, genes as the basic unit of heredity, and evolution as the engine that propels the creation and extinction of species. Living organisms—"

Sakura blinks heavily, tuning out her teacher's lecture with shameful ease. With her chin resting sleepily in her hand, she glances at the clock above the chalkboard, nearly rolling her eyes in dread when she sees that the minute hand hasn't moved merely an inch since the last she checked. Which was like an _hour_ ago.

_(Okay, so maybe it was like a minute ago, but seriously, come on.)_

She drums her fingernails impatiently against the wooden desktop, blatantly ignoring the searing glare directed at her fingers from the guy next to her, annoyed.

Green eyes trail lazily back to Kakashi-sensei, a teacher she's almost positive has a porn-addiction if the orange book that is always sticking out of his back pocket is any indication. Sakura scrunches her nose in disgust—It's no wonder he's teaching _Biology_. A shudder runs down her spine.

She debates whether or not she should sneak a nap. There's still twenty minutes left of class and, if she was being honest, she _knows_ this stuff already. Oh yeah, she's read the textbook—all three-hundred and twenty pages of it, and Sakura is more than ready for the test this Friday. Maybe she's an overachiever (an over-doer, if you will), but if she's going to be a surgeon one day, she _has_ to be. There's no half-saving someone's life—no room for slack in their final moments between life and death.

But at least she doesn't have to worry about falling behind, unlike her best friend who wouldn't be a senior right now without her. She snickers to herself, remembering all the notes she had slapped onto Ino's minty-blue bedspread two nights before the final exams last year.

_'__You mean, I have to read all of these?!' She had screeched, her face nearly purple with terror. _

_Sakura clapped a simple hand on her shoulder, smiling, unabashedly relishing in her misery. Maybe next time, Ino will actually study for once instead of poking fun at Sakura's notes all the time, now that she sees how much work she puts into them. You live and you learn, Ino-pig. 'Yup!'_

(Speaking of notes.)

Glancing down at her spiral notebook, her bubbly scrawl of handwriting takes up only half the page since she had abandoned writing about fifteen minutes ago. Pursing her lips, she stops drumming her fingers (she swears the guy next to her moans in relief) and picks up her pen, drawing nonchalantly in the empty space. Mindlessly scribbling little spirals along the faint blue lines, she pauses when she suddenly finds herself doodling a familiar name.

_Sasuke_.

Sasuke Uchiha.

Baseball captain. Brilliant. Top-of-the-class. Perfect lean body. Tall, dark and handsome—you know, everything that _shouldn't_ be possible for one man to be all at once. (It's so unfair because _nobody_ should be that perfect. Seriously.)

Despite his obnoxiously shining qualities, he's quiet for the most part. Keeps to himself like a secret. Or maybe he killed someone—it's not like she'd ever know, since the only stuff she knows about Sasuke is purely by rumor. They just happen to float her way, and honestly, it's a _little_ hard to ignore gossip that involves the _baseball captain_ of KHS. Everyone knows him. Loves him. Worships him, actually.

Okay, so maybe only the female population worships him. The males, however, are a different story—but they're just jealous sore losers if you ask her. It's not like Sasuke asked to be born that freaking attractive.

Not to mention he's _rich_. His father, the CEO and founder of Uchiha Enterprises, owns just about every commercial trade-corner in Japan, branching internationally where the States stand as their biggest client. In just ten years, Uchiha Enterprises exploded into a monopoly, eclipsing competition by miles—too big and too powerful to be rivaled. The red and white Uchiwa fan paints every cargo ship on Japan's horizon; like vast navy fleets sailing off to war. One time, She and Ino decided to google the Uchiha's net worth for shits-and-giggles, but their smiles were wiped clean from their faces when they saw the nine digit number across the screen. Needless to say, Sasuke could never work a day in his life and still live like a king.

She's also heard on several occasions that he's actually antisocial—withdrawn to a point. He doesn't attend activities outside of school, other than baseball, and he's never seen at mixers or parties. In fact, the only person he's really ever seen with outside of school is the catcher of the baseball team; Naruto Uzumaki. A blonde knucklehead of a guy she's seen, heard of, but never spoken to. Attached at the hip, it always seemed as if one was never without the other wherever they went—at least, that was the case whenever the reclusive Uchiha decides to show his face in public.

(And even though Sasuke and Naruto were rumored to be gay, Sakura secretly hoped Sasuke was at least bi.)

You'd think a guy like him would embrace his genes and take advantage of every opportunity he gets, considering the way he can _literally_ make a whole room swoon just by entering.

But as far as she knows—or anyone knows—he's never had a girlfriend. (Or boyfriend.)

Too bad it only serves to make him more interesting, if half—_all_—the crooning girls of the school are anything to go by. Sakura likes him too, but she's not screaming across the baseball field, clinging to the chain-link fence like a wild animal, asking to have his babies in the middle of his pitch. (True story. She was there. The girl was escorted off campus, kicking and screaming until she was shot in the rear with a horse tranquilizer.)

After punctuating the last letter of his name with a little heart, she sighs wistfully and looks up, green eyes following the incline of desk rows downward where the very man himself sits at the edge of his row, diagonal from her perspective, whose quick hands are working away at his notebook diligently.

He's as handsome as ever, she sighs to herself, cradling her chin in her hands and practically floating in her seat on a cloud of daydreams. She studies the side profile of his perfectly unblemished face (he probably doesn't even try!) His sharp raven bangs fall sinfully over equally dark eyes that are slightly narrowed in concentration—his left wrist flicks languidly across the paper, following Kakashi-sensei's lecture with ease. Sasuke pauses every once in a while to look up at their teacher, nodding curtly in understanding at whatever the silver-haired man is saying, as if he's genuinely intrigued by the lecture, before returning back to his notes.

Sakura blinks in surprise, however, when Ino—who somehow managed an assigned seat next to the Uchiha, _the conniving pig_—turns her platinum blond head in her direction. Baby blue eyes squint mischievously, accompanied by a smirk that Sakura has learned to _detest_ over the many years of their friendship, when her eyes flicker to Sasuke and back to Sakura. A smirk like that from _Ino_ is nothing short of dangerous.

_What_, Sakura mouths impatiently.

Blonde eyebrows waggle suggestively to which Sakura shoots her a look as if to say: _Whatever you're thinking about doing, Pig, don't even try it. _

Ino's smirk only grows more wicked, eyes twinkling impishly when she swiftly turns back around and begins to scribble something in her notebook. Eyes narrowing in suspicion, she studies the back of her best friend's head with a frown.

Slowly, reluctantly, Sakura returns to her own notebook, picking up where she left off, but she's only added a few more little hearts around Sasuke's name before something light and airy smacks her forehead and bounces off to land directly upon her notebook.

_What the_—

She snaps her head up, eyes immediately finding Ino's platinum ponytail. Despite not being able to see it, Sakura sends her a dark scowl and inwardly curses. Passing notes in class is a huge no-no; it's an instant detention and maybe Ino doesn't care about her perfect, unblemished school record but _Sakura_ does. _ThankYouVeryMuch_.

(If she gets in trouble, Ino is _so_ dead.)

With a petulant huff, she finally looks down at the offending object. A crumpled ball of paper sits innocently upon Sasuke's scribbled name. Kakashi-sensei has long since turned his back to the class, his ever-boring monotone voice a mere drawl in the background as he jots something on the chalkboard, completely oblivious to the paper note that has soared half-way across the classroom.

Sakura makes a face at Ino's back one last time before she gingerly opens the wad of paper before her, almost afraid of what she'll see. Maybe it's a picture, she thinks. The paper crinkles a little loudly and naturally, she flinches. But somehow luck is on her side—Kakashi-sensei's back is still turned. Sighing in relief, she quickly reads Ino's sloppy note.

_Don't think I don't see you eyeing Sasuke-kun, Forehead girl. If you want his dick that bad, you could always just ask... too bad you're such a prude. And you might wanna wipe that drool off your chin, although I suppose Sasuke-kun could lick it off for you_. _How 'bout it, Sakura?_

A cute little smiley face punctuates the end of the sentence and it takes every ounce of control in Sakura's body not to openly gape. Turning seven shades of red, she jerks her head to send the deadliest glare she can manage at her best friend, only for her simmering anger to amplify when she finds Ino smiling back at her, a hand over her mouth stifling laughter. _That witch!_ Flustered, Sakura grinds her teeth together and snatches her pen, eager to put the pig in her place.

_You're disgusting._ Sakura scribbles angrily, but then pauses abruptly as an idea sprouts in her head. "_Two can play at this game_," she whispers sourly to herself. Sakura will be damned if Ino thinks she can embarrass and tease her without getting a taste of her own medicine.

_Oh, I'll show her 'prude'._

Smirking and feeling quite proud of herself, she promptly erases her first two words and begins to rewrite.

_Lick it off? Oh, Pig. I'd let Sasuke-kun do far more than just that. In fact, I would pull him between my thighs and let him __fuck__—_she underlines this word with an angry bold line_—me until I'm screaming. Against the wall, pressed against the cherry tree behind our school, or smack dab in the middle of his baseball field, you name it. And speaking of prude, I've never seen you with a guy either. Why don't you ask him out yourself? Hypocrite. _

_P.S. if Kakashi-sensei catches this note, I'll personally kill you._

Satisfied, Sakura draws a tiny passive-aggressive heart, crumbles the paper back into a wad and waits until Kakashi-sensei turns around again. The second his back is turned, she hurls it through the air where it bounces against Ino's shoulder and onto the floor. She hastily bends over to pick it up, skims it over, and throws Sakura an offended look over her shoulder.

_Cha! Take that, Ino-pig!_

Sakura childishly sticks out her tongue, inwardly pumping a fist in triumph. Ino can make fun of her all she wants, but at the end of the day, she's really not one to talk. She's never seen her best friend advance on a guy, and the fact that she's hounding her for not busting a move on _Sasuke Uchiha_—the freaking baseball captain, of all people—is laughably ridiculous. A cruel joke.

Sure, she's liked him for four years. But who hasn't. The day he transferred from Sound freshman year, he was an instant school sensation; a celebrity of the highest caliber. His name—whispered in every hallway, scribbled on the walls of dirty bathroom stalls, passed around campus like a sweeping disease—was inescapable. And she, along with every other girl with eyes, had fallen for him the moment she saw him. It was a harmless, silly crush; something she's never expected to grow into anything other than just that. He's so far out of her league it's embarrassing. They've never even spoken before, least of all looked at each other. She's pretty sure he doesn't even know she exists—at least, he pretends not to.

Sakura remembers all too clearly the day she once tried (with all the courage her hopeful heart could muster) to greet him for the first time since she laid eyes on him. They had been the first ones to arrive in the classroom one morning, leaving them completely alone with each other. He had already been seated at his desk, writing something in his notes, clearly absorbed—oblivious to her entrance. Her palms had been so sweaty it was a wonder how she even held onto her notebooks.

_"__Good morning, S-Sasuke-kun." She had greeted cheerfully (nervously), nearly choking on his name, a one-thousand-watt smile lighting her face like a Christmas tree. Heart thundering, she clenched her notebooks to her chest, face blossoming as pink as her hair as she waited for him to acknowledge her as she casually passed him by._

He hadn't even looked up. (_That jerk!_) But when she had settled into her desk, deflated and deeply humiliated that she had been disregarded so easily, so rudely, it was only then that she had noticed the earbuds in his ears. Her chest flooded with relief. He probably hadn't even heard her.

_Maybe next time, he'll notice me._

But that was over a year ago, and there had never been a next time. Sighing heavily at the memory, she is ripped from her thoughts when a crinkled ball of paper plops onto her notebook again. Sakura takes in a deep breath, not even bothering to look over at Ino—who, Sakura would bet a million dollars, was smirking with glee. She unfurls the note as quietly as she can manage.

_Wow, billboard brow . . . I am genuinely impressed. Have you been watching porn lately? I had no idea you even knew that many positions. And I may not have ever been with a guy, but at least I've been kissed. Tell me, what's it like though? Daydreaming about Sasuke-kun's wet, sloppy kisses, that is. You've liked him for like, four years now, Sakura. Get a fucking move on, already. Wrap your cute little ass in a bow and slip him your V-card._

_P.S. Kakashi-sensei can suck my dick. _

Eyes nearly popping out of her skull at that last sentence, Sakura hunches forward protectively when the guy next to her scowls in disgust, as if he read the note himself over her shoulder. Arms still shielding the crinkled paper from unwanted eyes, Sakura chances a look at Kakashi-Sensei before she furiously writes back.

_For gods' sake! What if Kakashi-sensei catches this note by accident! Also I definitely do __not__ daydream about his kisses. Okay, maybe just a little . . . But don't you dare bring up my virginity, Pig. I bet Sasuke-kun doesn't even know my name—_

"—Sakura?"

She nearly jumps out of her seat, startled like a child caught with an arm halfway in the cookie jar.

"M-Mitosis!" She blurts without thinking, only to shrink in mortification when the rest of the class explodes in peals of laughter.

Kakashi-sensei quirks a single visible eyebrow in what she assumes is surprise (nobody can really tell what kind of expressions he makes under that weird medical mask and eyepatch anyway.)

Sakura feels one hundred pairs of eyes on her back, and every head in the front four rows have turned, craning their necks to see the face of the unlucky person who has just embarrassed themselves.

Including Sasuke.

Over his shoulder, he looks right at her; expression as blank as a sheet of paper. She stares right back at him, blinking in astonishment, because it's the first time they've ever made eye contact. And it's so _intense_—piercing, even. Like two black holes sucking her in and crushing the oxygen from her lungs with their devastating gravity. Butterflies flap wildly against the walls of her stomach; she thinks she might hurl her breakfast across the room. His eyes glisten like obsidian _marbles_—

When his dark brows furrow marginally (she needs a magnifying glass to be sure) in confusion, her breath hitches, and suddenly she feels as naked as a mole rat. As if someone has snapped their fingers and every article of her clothing disappears. She sits naked, squirming under that smoldering gaze that pierces through her like Cupid's arrow. Heart stuttering, chest heaving, face flooding with heat, Sakura quickly tries to calm down. Tries to breathe.

_Well if he didn't notice me before, he definitely notices me now!_

"Sakura?" Kakashi-sensei's usual monotone voice is now laced with concern. She snaps her gaze back to the teacher, breaking free from the baseball captain's wicked spell, mumbling a quick apology before lowering her eyes in shame. The silver-haired man studies her for another moment, as if he's hesitating whether to ask if she's alright (as if he's questioning her sanity), but resumes his lecture after a quiet murmur of _'Pay attention next time.'_

Spine snapping straight, it dawns on her suddenly—what Sasuke's first impression of her must be now. She's just made a complete idiot out of herself in front of the whole class. All because of . . .

Sakura's pearly teeth mash together, narrows her eyes into dangerous slits, _slowly_ turning to glare at a _certain_ blonde pig. But she's not facing Sakura. No. She's staring straight ahead at the chalkboard, a little too casually to be genuine, twirling a strand of her blonde ponytail nonchalantly as if to say: _'Don't look at me, I didn't do anything.' _

Sakura's fists clench on the table top. She's positive a deadly miasma is radiating off her at this point, because the guy next to her scoots a few inches away.

"_S-Scary_ . . . " she thinks she hears him whisper.

Snatching her pen, she scowls down at the crinkled note as if her very eyes could set the paper on fire, before erasing the last sentence she wrote and picking up where she left off.

_—__are you happy now, Pig? Are you? Because you've just totally ruined everything with this stupid note. Sasuke-kun probably thinks I'm a dumbass now, no thanks to __you__. There goes my chance. _

_P.S. don't talk to me for the rest of my life. I hate you. _

With that, she balls up the wad of paper with more force than necessary and, as Kakashi-sensei turns back to the chalkboard, she chucks it with all her might across the room, watching with pure satisfaction as it soars downward like a projectile missile—

—only for it to violently smack the head of a very raven-haired baseball captain.

Sakura claps a palm over her gaping mouth to stifle her petrified shriek of terror.

_Oh gods! Oh fuck! No way—!_

She sinks down into her seat immediately, as low as she can physically go, eyes wider than the moon in absolute _horror_. _Oh gods. Holy shit. No, no, no, no! Please don't pick it up—please, please, please—_

Sasuke whips his head behind him, obsidian eyes slit with anger, searching murderously for the culprit as he rubs the side of his head where he was just unforgivably assaulted. Sakura keeps her eyes trained on the notebook before her, nostrils flaring and swallowing against the growing lump in her throat. Trying to remember everything that was written in the note, she cringes fiercely, her whole body shaking with trepidation. She thinks she might be sick.

_'__And you might wanna wipe that drool off your chin, although I suppose Sasuke-kun could lick it off for you_.'

_'__Lick it off? Oh, Pig. I'd let Sasuke-kun do far more than just that. In fact, I would pull him between my thighs and let him __fuck__ me until I'm screaming. Against the wall, pressed against the cherry tree behind our school, or smack dab in the middle of his baseball field, you name it.'_

_'__Tell me, what's it like though? Daydreaming about Sasuke-kun's wet, sloppy kisses, that is. You've liked him for like, four years now, Sakura . . . Wrap your cute little ass in a bow and slip him your V-card.'_

_'__And I definitely do __not__ daydream about his kisses. Okay, maybe just a little . . . '_

Attempting to swallow again, she gathers the courage to sneak a peek at her impending doom, only for her heart to plummet into her stomach when she sees him finally bend over and pick up the offending wad of paper on the floor by his feet.

Sakura squeezes her eyes shut, bringing both pale, trembling hands to her face in utter mortification, but not before catching the terrified look on Ino's face as she realizes what has just happened.

Her teeth sink into her bottom lip painfully. There's no coming back from this. Nope. She can't even open her eyes. Oh, gods. The sound of light crinkling paper has her sinking even further in her seat. Sakura's racing heartbeat echoes in her ears, pounding and pounding until she feels her whole body alight with fire; flight or fight mode. If only the floor could swallow her up. If only she could just disappear into thin air, if only she could—

A few tense seconds tick by, but she's still too afraid to open her eyes, pressing the heels of her palms harder against her eyelids. Her shoulders shrug inward toward her ears, entire body taut with arresting panic. She knows (she _knows_) he is reading it. He's reading it right now.

_Goodbye, cruel world. It was fun while it lasted._

Cracking an eye open, a new tidal wave of humiliation crashes over her when she physically sees the note unfurled in his hands. Nope. _Mm-mm_. This is _so_ not happening. She crosses her arms over the desk and buries her head in the nook of her forearms, wishing and praying and hoping to all the gods that are listening that Sasuke doesn't hate her. Because, surely, after reading a note like _that_, he will be so disgusted by her that just looking at the color pink will make him hurl. She probably sounded like such a creep! Or worse . . .

A _whore_.

_But—but. . . I'm a _virgin!

Tears prickle her eyes. The lewd things she wrote were to explicitly piss Ino off; she would never do any of those nasty things! (Okay, so that's not _entirely_ the truth . . . Sex with Sasuke is a fantasy she dreams about more often than she cares to admit.) But still, she never should have risked it—never should have played Ino's games that only get her in trouble time and time again. She should have known. Ino _always_ gets her in trouble.

(You live and you learn.)

Exhaling a shuddering breath, Sakura finally lifts her head up, only to startle forcibly when bottomless black eyes lock with hers.

He's staring at her shamelessly over his broad shoulder, eyes peeking through his dark fringe, the incriminating note still open in his hands in all its wanton glory. Her lips tremble and she's positive she looks like a deer in headlights. Against her will, those smoldering black eyes send zips of electricity coursing through her veins, down and down and down until it spreads along her lower belly where heat stirs like liquid fire between her legs.

A tiny, helpless squeak escapes her throat.

_Help_.

The bell rings suddenly, ripping through the air and shattering the moment like a bullet through glass. _Oh thank god_! Sakura jumps out of her seat faster than lightning, scraping her notebook into her book bag and slinging it over her shoulder so quickly, she almost smacks the guy next to her across the face with it.

Kakashi-sensei is announcing something as everyone is gathering their things, but right now she _really_ doesn't care. Galloping down the stairs between the rows of desks, bumping shoulders with people she doesn't bother apologizing to, she books it—runs like hell to the door and into the hallway (sweet, sweet freedom) before even Ino can catch up with her. She doesn't look back.

And she doesn't see the pair of onyx eyes that follow her out the door.

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PLEASE REVIEW AND LET ME KNOW HOW YOU LIKE IT :D Till next time! -Sloshi


	2. Chapter 1

**~CAPTAIN! ~**

**CHAPTER 1**

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It's only at her locker that she catches her breath, hunching over with hands on her sock-covered knees, desperate for lost oxygen that doesn't necessarily have to do with running. Her heart races against her chest. Pink hair falls over her shoulders and into her eyes, when a pair of shiny black flats enter her line of sight.

"_Sakura_!" Ino exclaims, exasperated and breathless as if she, too, had taken off running in pursuit of her pink-haired friend. Sighing in defeat, she straightens upright to face her best friend. She's surprised to see guilt marring her pretty features, but it doesn't make her feel better in the slightest. "Goddamn, you're quick! _Seriously_, how the hell do you run so fast?"

"_Are you kidding_?" Sakura almost screeches. Several curious heads turn to look at her as they pass through the hallway. "_Sasuke Uchiha _just read our disgusting _note_, Ino!" Sakura drops her voice to a harsh whisper. "Which—by the way, is all your fault—and you're worried about _how fast I can run_?" She throws her hands up in disbelief before they slap against either side of her green-and-gold plaid skirt. Her tiny fists clutch the cotton fabric in frustration.

Ino's perfect brows cinch in anger. "My fault?" She's defensive immediately, as usual. "How the hell is this _my_ fault?! You're the one who pitched the note like it was a fucking baseball across the room! Suddenly it's _my_ fault?!" She scoffs haughtily. "Oh, congrats on the home run by the way. _And the crowd goes wild! Woo-hoo!_" Ino waves her arms hysterically, openly mocking her.

_That does it_. Sakura jabs an accusing finger to Ino's collarbone, completely ignoring her _stupid_ sarcasm. (Which is totally not funny.) "Yes! _Your_ fault! If you hadn't thrown that note in the first place, none of this would have ever happened, _Pig_! And Sasuke—" she breaks off abruptly, bottom lip trembling like a leaf as she's reminded all over again the nightmare of which she has just been flung into. "Oh, gods, _Sasuke-kun_. . ." Covering her face with her hands, she tries to hide the tears that are swiftly filling her eyes to the brim. She's so _embarrassed_, it's nauseating. "What am I going to do . . ." She finishes with a defeated whisper and a sniffle against her palms. She's basically just signed her own death wish. With a lipstick kiss.

He was going to show the whole entire school. Everyone would see what she wrote; judge her, humiliate her, point fingers at her in the halls, whisper nasty things like _whore_ and _slut_ and _skank_—

_No_. She stomps out the thought.

Sasuke, the private, antisocial, beautiful baseball captain wouldn't do that. It was her first offense. He would show her mercy.

_. . . Right_?

Ino's warm embrace surrounds her, comforting and familiar. But it doesn't help. Doesn't chase away the horror coiling like a snake inside her gut. Her mind races, each thought worse than the last.

"It'll be _fine_." Ino says in her ear. "He'll probably just throw it away. Besides, he probably gets letters like that all the time—with a little more detail, too, I'm sure." She feels her best friend shudder. "Let's just go to lunch, and try to forget this ever happened, okay?" Ino's voice flips like a switch, not a sour note perceptible in her now soothing tone. Sakura blinks, wondering if she's imagining things, but when Ino pulls away, a bright white smile shines back. Sakura almost has to squint.

(Ino is so weird.)

༺º༻

When they enter the cafeteria, Sakura hides behind Ino's back, eyes darting around frantically as she shuffles behind the blonde; as if Sasuke will somehow jump out of nowhere and pounce like an angry lion. He's in here somewhere, hiding in the underbrush. (She _knows_ it.)

"Will you _relax_, Forehead?" Ino complains when Sakura jumps in fright, dramatically clutching onto the blonde's shoulders and nearly pulling her backwards as a kid with black hair (not Sasuke) strolls by. "You're being ridiculous."

"I'm being cautious, Pig. There's a _difference_."

"Well, can you be a little less _cautious_ so that I can get my lunch in peace, please? People are staring."

Sakura squeezes her shoulders. "What if he comes up to me?"

"He won't."

"You don't know that!"

"I'll make sure of it, Forehead, now get off me!"

Sakura groans, but acquiesces reluctantly. And although she steps back to give Ino some breathing room, she trails behind her like lost puppy as they make their way to the lunch line. Every spot of black in her peripherals has her jumping out of her skin. She doesn't _think_ Sasuke will actually confront her, but she's not taking any chances, dammit.

But it's only when she and Ino have their lunch trays in hand and headed towards their usual table that she finally spots him. He strolls through the double doors of the cafeteria coolly, hands deep in the pockets of his beige slacks, expression indiscernible and unruffled as always.

His KHS uniform is in perfect shape—the forest green blazer is unwrinkled, the rich golden tie tucked beneath the dipped V collar, and a stark white dress shirt underneath. The threaded KHS crest is sewn into the left breast of his jacket; a gold spiraling leaf-shaped swirl, embroidered onto a navy shield-patch outlined in gold—and flanked by twin, curving wreaths of golden leaves. A tiny gold crown sits upon the emblem's apex; a symbol of wealth, status, and prestige. A royal motif fit for a school governed by Tsunade Senju herself.

A mop of spiky midnight hair sits thick and messy on his head, moody black eyes just barely peeking through his overgrown bangs—undeniably _perfect_. Impeccable. Suave as a black dove.

An air of class sits upon his broad shoulders, as if born from the highest nobility; born of elegance and grace so smooth it's almost preternatural—all things clumsy little Sakura could never be in all her lifetime. Boyish and masculine features intertwined, twisted and balanced to create the most stunning guy she's truly ever seen. That anyone's ever seen.

Sakura clenches her knees together, nearly dropping her tray.

"Oh, god—there he is, Ino. He's right _there_!" She whispers harshly, terror ripping through her gut, leaning to try and hide her face from Sasuke's line-of-sight behind Ino's shouder just in case.

He's far away enough that she thinks he probably doesn't see her, but that doesn't stop her fingers from trembling as her eyes follow his lithe stride to the lunch line behind them. (Even his walk is flawless!) Sakura quickly takes note of the _several_ pairs of eyes following the very same baseball captain she's basically ogling. She's surprised, however, when she catches a few angry glares sent her way. She averts her gaze.

"Okay, _and_?" Ino prompts, unimpressed, as they finish their trek to the lunch table where they join their typical inner circle of friends. Tenten, Hinata, and Karin wave them over excitedly.

"And—_how are you not freaking out about this_?!" Sakura squeaks incredulously, trying and failing to keep her voice down.

"Freaking out about what?" Karin asks casually when Sakura and Ino shuffle in and take their seats, always ready for whatever juicy gossip she can snatch.

"N-Nothing!"

Karin blinks behind thick-rimmed glasses, lifting a scarlet brow. When Sakura shifts her eyes warily, casts several looks over her shoulders as if she's expecting someone to come up and stab her at any given moment, Karin looks over her own shoulders, searching for whatever monster might be stalking her dorky friend. But she finds nothing. _What, did she develop a drug habit overnight? _

"Is e-everything okay, S-Sakura-chan?" Hinata asks kindly, pausing in the middle of wrapping stringy ramen noodles around her chopsticks to observe her pink-haired friend with concern.

"Yeah, you look like you've seen a ghost!" Tenten adds unhelpfully around a mouthful of rice.

"She's fine." Ino says with a roll of her blue eyes.

Sakura doesn't protest Ino's remark, and when Tenten and Karin exchange glances with a shrug, they start gushing about a science project (At least she thinks that's what they're talking about; she can hardly pay them any attention.) And because all seniors share the same biology class, just different intervals in the day, Sakura quickly tunes them out.

_Wait—Did they just say project?_

Sakura blinks, but then thinks better of it and doesn't bother to ask; she'll just ask Kakashi-sensei about it tomorrow. She decides she doesn't need another stressor today.

Hinata returns to her ramen, and Sakura is left to stare down at her miso soup, appetite zapped. She knows she should eat something, but her stomach won't stop flip-flopping. A tiny square of tofu floats lazily across the gold liquid. She's gonna be sick.

Next to her, Ino tucks into her extra-light salad, coated with a light (low-fat) dressing, slivers of raw carrot, and two measly cherry tomatoes. Sakura grimaces, opening her mouth to unleash a lecture Ino's already heard thousands of times. But really, Sakura worries. All thoughts of Sasuke are momentarily forgotten in light of her friend's health.

"You should really eat more than just lettuce everyday, Pig, it's not healthy. Even as much as you'd like to think so. You need protein—like an egg or something. I swear to god you're one leaf away from turning into a pile of dust and bones. One day you're gonna wake up and _Poof!_" She makes an exploding gesture with both hands. "Just like that."

Ino looks offended, stabbing the lettuce with a little more force than necessary to prove it. "My weight isn't going to maintain itself, _Dr_. _Billboard-brow_. But thanks for the advice, I'd like to check out now."

"Hey!" Sakura frowns at the mockery of the career she's chased since she was a child. "I really _will_ be a doctor one day, Ino. And the minute I graduate from medical school, you'll technically _have_ to listen to me."

"S-She's right, you know." Hinata says quietly, supportive as always, pearl eyes blinking innocently under her dark purple fringe.

Ino sniffs, lifting her chin in defiance. "I don't care. I'll eat what I want, how much I want, and when I want. And none of you—" she sweeps an accusing manicured nail at each girl at the table. "—can stop me." With that, she pops one of the only two cherry tomatoes in her mouth.

Sakura rolls her eyes, but gives up. (For now. She'll try again tomorrow.) Ino's so stubborn it almost hurts. But she's _skinny_—the forest green and gold KHS uniform that once fit her snugly just a few weeks ago is noticeably looser. It's more than just being an aspiring doctor, she _cares_ about her best friend's wellbeing. Sakura has seen the magazines plastered on Ino's wall; the one-hundred pound American model women posing fierce and beautiful. But _gods_, so underweight. She really hopes Ino knows better than that.

Sakura opens her mouth to change the subject, when a boisterous laugh erupts through the cafeteria. Loud noises typically wouldn't bother her (or even catch her attention, really, because it's the cafeteria and it's _always_ loud.) but she's already on edge, paranoid, so she jerks her head and cranes her neck, searching for the source of racket.

A few tables away, she sees it in the form of blonde hair and mirthful blue eyes. Not the pale blonde hair or baby blue eyes like Ino's, no. His colorings are saturated; full of color and light. He's laughing so hard he's wheezing—though at what, who the hell knows. But it's not Naruto Uzumaki or one of the several other impossibly cute guys in his baseball clique who has her heartbeat skyrocketing instantaneously, it's the onyx haired man sitting _right_ next to him. Sasuke looks irritated, if not properly pissed off, as he tilts his head back and sips his water bottle. His slender throat bobs as he takes a gulp, another, another—

Sakura inhales sharply, heart leaping into her throat, because the second she blinks, his dark, _dark_ eyes somehow catch hers just as he tips his head down, lowering the plastic bottle from his lips.

Sakura startles, dropping her eyes to her lunch-tray so fast she has to blink furiously to bring herself back to reality. It happened so fast—so fleeting and quick she has to wonder if _he_ even registered their brief eye contact.

_But he's a genius, stupid. Of course he totally caught you eyeballing him! Pull yourself together!_

"Forehead? You good?"

It takes a second for Sakura to catch her breath, anxiety sweeping her whole frame and filling her stomach with tingles that she's not _quite_ sure feel good or bad. It's his eyes, she thinks. They're so . . . _consuming_. So dark and bizarre and filled with _something_ she can't explain. It makes her feel as if . . . makes her insides feel as if they're drenched in gasoline, and those onyx eyes are a lit match thrown—exploding, igniting, and devouring every nerve ending in her body. Starting between her—

_No_. She shakes away the perverted thoughts, gritting her pearly teeth and channeling her thoughts to something more . . . appropriate.

_Technically_, that's the second time he's ever looked at her.

Sakura mentally drops her head in shame. _So pathetic. . ._

"—you okay?" All of her friends, except Ino who sits next to her, blink at her from the other side of the table, concerned.

Sakura snaps back to earth and smiles a little too brightly, waving her hands as if to dismiss their worry. "Y-Yeah! Totally fine. Peachy. Absolutely perfect." She laughs nervously, palming the back of her neck, smile twitching.

Karin's expression turns serious and Sakura almost reels in surprise. "No, really Sakura. What's up with you? You're being all . . ." Her lips purse in thought as she tries to find the right word to describe her mousey pink friend. "_Weird_."

Tenten and Hinata bob their heads in sudden agreement, as if just now acknowledging Sakura's strange behavior for themselves. Ino merely sighs, parting her lips to fill them in on all the details when she is rudely interrupted.

"Sakura! _Sakura_!" A shrill, feminine voice shrieks from a distance behind her. Sakura jerks her head over her shoulder in alarm, long pink hair—pulled halfway back and fixed with a yellow ribbon—whipping Ino in the face.

A girl with short purple hair runs full speed towards her, huffing and puffing when she makes it to their table, as if she had ran across half the country just for Sakura. The pinkette blinks in astonishment. For a moment she considers covering her head, because surely the sky is falling. "_Ami_?"

Still huffing, bent over with hands upon her sock-covered knees, she breathes quickly. "You—I can't believe you threw a love letter at Sasuke-kun's head! What the hell were you thinking, _stupid_! Have you even heard what everyone's been saying!"

Several chairs screech backward when Sakura—along with Karin and Tenten—leap like frogs from their seats, palms slamming upon the table. Her forgotten miso soup sloshes over the rim when the surface shakes.

"_What_!" They all scream in unison, sharing the same horrified expression. Hinata merely squeaks.

_A love letter?!_

A blanket of silence falls over the cafeteria at the outburst. Even though every head is turned in their direction, even though she feels hundreds of eyes upon her, Sakura only becomes hyper-aware when she knows without a doubt that Sasuke is looking at her—all loud and obnoxious, she wonders how she can ever redeem herself in those dark eyes that are burning holes onto her face right now. She doesn't even dare look.

_God, he's judging you so hard right now._

But it's not like she could help it! She totally did _not_ give Sasuke a love letter, dammit! Sue her for being upset; she should have known _these_ kind of rumors would begin to circulate. It wasn't like she was fucking _subtle_ about it when she nailed the side of the_ baseball captain's_ head with a wad of paper in front of the whole senior biology class.

Hinata looks like she wants to run to the bathroom in humiliation at the sudden limelight, and Ino is slack-jawed, speechless. Tenten and Karin exchange disbelieving looks before turning back to Sakura slowly, carefully, as if afraid of scaring her off with their next sentence. "You. . . You did _what_?"

When not-so-hushed whispers and stifled snickers start to erupt all around them, Sakura plops back into her seat, properly mortified—_again_. Heat fills her cheeks, lips trembling when she whispers: "I didn't. . ."

The moment Karin and Tenten settle back into their seats, Ino stands abruptly, chair scraping noisily against linoleum. "What the hell! Sakura didn't give anyone a love letter, it was for me!" She snaps at Ami, who edges backward at the flames spewing from Ino's mouth. "We were passing a note back and forth and Sasuke just happened to intercept! Tell your little friends to stop spreading false crap and get your facts straight or I'll—"

"Ino!" Hinata gasps when the blonde starts rolling up her uniform's sleeves. But Sakura is already laying a hand on her friend's forearm in warning.

"_Pig_, you're causing a scene!" Sakura hisses through clenched teeth, nearly groaning out loud in irritation. Just how many times is she going to draw attention to herself today! "_Sit down_!"

"I—I'm not trying to cause trouble, you idiots! I came here to _warn_ you." Ami casts a shifty glance from side to side before dropping her voice so that only their table can hear. "I overheard it in the hallway; everyone's saying you smacked him in the head with a love letter. Somebody _else_ said it's because he rejected you."

_What the f—_

Sakura's mouth flounders in incredulity. "That did not—_what_! That's not even . . . " She glances around the cafeteria and it's only now that she notices the waspish looks being thrown her way. _Glares_. So many of them, their beady eyes glowing with malicious promise. Like predators laying in wait. And they're _whispering_. Sakura groans, shoving her tray away and crossing her arms over the table, burying her head. Because not only has she ruined any chance of being in good graces with Sasuke _ever_, she's also drawn a big fat target on her back.

_Why me . . . _Sakura melts into a boneless puddle upon the cool table, as if all her hopes and dreams have whooshed out of her soul.

"There, there, Forehead." Ino says lightheartedly with a pat on her back as she sits back down. "It could be worse."

Sakura straightens up at this, her face awash with disbelief. "_How_?!"

Ino simply smiles. "He could have _actually_ rejected you."

She tries to think of a nasty retort, but Ino's kind of right. (For once.)

"Yeah!" Tenten chimes in cheerfully. "Besides, it wasn't actually a love letter right?"

Sakura shakes her head, sick to her stomach. No. It was so much _worse_. At her sudden change in expression, Karin takes over carefully, crimson eyes narrowed in uncertainty. "Sakura. . . What _exactly_ was in that note?"

༺º༻

Her locker is jammed.

Of course it is, she grumbles sourly to herself, because clearly she can't catch a break today. Her fist bangs against the cool metal in frustration.

_Breathe, Sakura. Just breathe—_

Her mood plummets even further when a trio of girls she's never even seen before pass by, pointing and sniggering at her expense.

_"—the girl Sasuke-kun rejected."_

_"No way, I would hate to be her."_

_"Did she really throw a love letter at his head? How embarrassing."_

Sakura scowls at them darkly, but instead of scaring them off like she hoped, they instead cackle like a wild pack of hyenas behind their manicured claws, before disappearing down the hallway corridor.

_So rude, _Sakura seethes inwardly.

The warning bell trills through the emptying halls. She's going to be late if she doesn't get this stupid thing open. Her chemistry notebooks are in there and unfortunately, that's the _one_ class she actually needs to take notes in. Cursing, she yanks the locker handle, hiking her foot against the wall for better leverage.

_Come on, come on, come on—!_

By some miracle, the locker finally bursts open. She stumbles backwards while everything inside spills to the floor in a waterfall of loose leaf papers and notebooks. Yanking on her long pink tresses in aggravation, she tries not to let out a high pitched scream. She huffs, bending over and attempting to scrape the papers up off the floor when a sudden (large) tan hand shoots out.

Sakura jumps back, startled.

"Woah, hey! Relax—I just thought you looked like you could use some help."

She blinks stupidly, eyelashes fluttering several times in succession before she takes in the friendly cerulean eyes, strange whisker marks and sunshine hair.

_No way—!_

"You're—you're. . ." Her mind stutters and she swallows hard. He's taller than her, she observes instantly, the tip of her head just reaching under his nose. His shaggy blond hair falls carelessly over his crinkling eyes and Sakura can't help but feel starstruck by his charming presence.

"Naruto." He introduces cheerfully before laughing at her baffled expression. It's a sound so genuine and pure that Sakura's mood lightens like sunlight poking through storm clouds. She's grinning before she can help herself.

"Ah—Right, right!" Shaking out of her daze, she quickly bows to introduce herself. "I'm—"

"Sakura Haruno," he finishes for her, taking her by complete surprise. She straightens up and cocks her head to the side.

"Y-Yeah . . ." She drops her gaze bashfully, toes curling inward. "How'd you know?"

_Since when does one of the most popular guys in school know who I am, anyway! I'm a nobody!_

He scratches the nape of his neck sheepishly before bending down to sweep up the rest of her papers. "I—Well, I don't know if you'll remember but," Sakura leans down to help pick up the last few pieces of paper before he passes over the rest of her stack. She cradles them to her chest, nods in thanks and listens intently.

"The beginning of freshmen year we were in math together. I really sucked at it, you know?" He chuckles uneasily and Sakura can't help but wonder if he's somehow nervous. But that's not possible because why would Naruto Uzumaki ever be nervous around _her_?

"But one day I was stuck on a certain question, gods it was so stupid, but you were sitting in front of me and Iruka-sensei wasn't looking, so I tapped your shoulder and asked for your help. And, well . . . You were the first girl who ever bothered to help me. You know, before I joined the baseball team that is." His grin shrinks into a shy curve and there's something about it that suddenly makes him look like a child. His cheeks are pink. "It's . . . kind of hard to forget someone—_something_—" he corrects quickly, averting his gaze a little too fast to be anything but casual. "—like that."

Sakura thinks there's no way _she_ would forget something like that, but considering Naruto hadn't really risen in popularity until the tail end of freshman year, she supposes it would make sense that she hadn't even bothered to remember his face. As terrible as that sounds, it just wasn't a striking memory. She feels bad.

Sakura bows apologetically, pink hair spilling over her shoulders. "Please forgive me. I don't remember—"

A firm hand on her shoulder has her squeaking in surprise. Her head jerks up, green eyes wide. "It's okay, really, Sakura-chan." Pink eyebrows raise in astonishment at the sudden endearment, but his smile is so contagious and it sounds so natural coming from his deep raspy voice that her shoulders slacken a little. "I just figured I'd tell you, you know, so I don't come off as some kind of a creep."

"Of course not!" She blurts with a little more volume than necessary.

_Because, gods, this is Naruto Uzumaki! The man who helped win KHS's national baseball tournament three years in a row! And practically Sasuke's right hand man. He's so cool, how could he ever think he was a creep?!_

Sakura voices none of these inner thoughts, but flushes immediately at his puzzled expression. "S-Sorry it's just—"

"Hey, wait a second. . ." He begins suddenly, face inching closer as cerulean eyes squint in scrutiny, studying her like she's a curious specimen under a microscope. Her heart picks up the pace and she takes a hesitant step back. (Because _why _is he looking at her like that!) She shrinks, uncomfortably vulnerable beneath his hardening gaze. "You—aren't you the one who threw the love letter at the bastard this morning?"

Sakura nearly chokes, heart thumping like a war-drum inside her chest. _I guess this is my life now._ She flushes several shades of red before stuttering out, "No! That wasn't—I didn't—!"

He looks taken aback by her discomfort, quickly waving his hands in defense. "Relax, Sakura-chan! I wasn't going to tease you or anything. In fact, I was laughing so hard when I heard, I nearly fell off my chair! I wish I hadn't been sleeping in Biology, I would have paid to see his face!"

Sakura grimaces, cheeks pink, clenching the papers against her chest tighter, as if it could protect her from this humiliation that has so quickly ruined her life. "It wasn't a love letter." She grumbles sulkily.

But something within her pauses when a thought clicks into place, taking her by quiet surprise. If everyone thinks it was a _love_ letter . . . Then, that must mean Sasuke hasn't shown anyone what she really wrote.

_Yet._

Perhaps Ino was right. (_Twice_ in the same day? Someone get her a lottery ticket, please!) Maybe Sasuke just threw it away after all. Maybe—just maybe, she was spared.

Naruto simply laughs; a hearty, carefree sound. "You should have seen the bastard's face at lunch when someone brought it up. He was so embarrassed!" _So that's what he was laughing so hard about_, Sakura muses with dread. But then her heart twists painfully when she registers what Naruto just said.

_'He was so embarrassed!'_

Oh, man. Sakura screws her eyes shut. _I'm so sorry, Sasuke-kun!_

"That—that wasn't my intention." She says earnestly, hoping Naruto catches onto her unspoken plea. To _drop the subject _before she sinks to the floor in despair.

But Naruto smiles brightly, shifting to shove a lazy hand in the pocket of his slacks and waving dismissively with the other. "Oh, he's fine. He'll get over it. It's definitely not the first time he's gotten a love letter," he pauses in thought before adding with a sly, cheeky grin that reminds her of a fox: "although, I'm pretty sure it's the first time one's ever been thrown at his head."

"Well, I'll see you around Naruto." She abruptly spins on her heel, intending to walk away before he can make her feel even worse. Cute catcher of the KHS baseball team be damned. She doesn't even bother putting the rest of her stuff back in her locker. She'll carry her whole damn academic career in her arms if it means escaping from the blond who is so clearly poking fun at her misery.

"Wait! Sakura-chan, I was just kidding—!"

Sakura walks faster, picking up the pace when she hears his dress shoes clacking against the linoleum behind her. Nope. Not happening. And when she feels him closing in on her, she breaks out into a run (she's going to be late and she needs to get away from this guy before she spills ugly fat tears!)

When the final bell rings through the empty halls, she careens down the corridor like she's being chased by a rabid dog, frowning when she still hears his footsteps behind her.

Naruto pumps his legs wildly, desperately trying to keep up with Sakura's incredibly insane speed and he can't help but stare after her in amazement. _God damn this girl's fast!_

Running even faster, she bolts down the next hallway, huffing and puffing, before she swiftly rounds the corner—

"_Uaah_!"

—and slams into something _hard_.

Sakura flies backward, arms flailing, papers fluttering like snowflakes all around her before they float innocently to the ground. Her head smacks the hard tile and for a moment everything goes white. Stars swim across her vision.

_I'm dead. I'm dead. I'm dead. I died. I'm dead._

There's a soft, pained grunt a little ways from her, but her vision isn't clear enough to see what—or who—it is. Slowly, she struggles to sit up, rubbing at the lump forming on the back of her head underneath her satin yellow bow. She moans quietly when the pain shoots from the back of her head to the base of her spine. Yup, definitely a trip to the nurses' office.

"O-Ouch." She mumbles.

She cracks an eye open, only for every muscle in her body to _freeze_.

Because there, sitting on the ground in front of her, is Sasuke Uchiha.

(Yeah, she's definitely dead.)

༺º༻

"You."

Sakura tenses like a coiled spring, bristling with a hurricane of emotions.

Because first of all: '_You_.'

(Not:_ 'Are you alright?' 'Are you hurt?' 'I'm so sorry' 'Let me help you up')_

Nope_. _Just a very deep, accusing _'you.'_

Sakura's not sure what hurts more; the fact that he hadn't even addressed her by name, (because he _definitely_ knows it by now) or the fact that he bypassed her wellbeing completely in favor of glaring muderously at her. She stiffens when he rises effortlessly to his feet—he really _is_ tall—and has to crane her neck to look up at his scowling expression from her pitiful position on the floor. He impatiently wipes the dirt from his spotless uniform.

She gulps.

He's going to kill her—wrap those large pale hands around her throat and strangle her and toss her dead body into the sea.

There's a desperate _clack-clack-clack_ growing ever closer, the sound of shoes against linoleum echoing in the deserted halls, and it's only when she hears the obnoxious "Sakura-chan!" that she winces. "Sakura-chan, are you—_oh_."

Naruto skids to a screeching stop when he takes in the situation before him, head swiveling left and right. Large cerulean eyes blink at Sasuke's arrogantly cocked eyebrow, before Naruto's expression darkens like a storm cloud.

"Watch where you're going, you stupid bastard!" Naruto barks, immediately at her defense as he helps Sakura to her feet. His loyalty would be endearing if it wasn't _Sasuke Uchiha_ he was aiming to piss off. When she finds her balance, he begins to fix the yellow ribbon that fell askew during her graceless fall. She can't help but blush.

"T-Thanks, Naruto, but I don't need—"

She's interrupted by a bitter scoff. "She ran into _me_, idiot." His dark eyes lock onto Naruto in blatant irritation before they flicker almost reluctantly to hers. She wants to step backwards at the animosity she sees in them, but his intense gaze skewers her in place. "Watch where you're going next time." The Uchiha promptly side-steps them, shoving pale hands into his pockets.

". . . _annoying_." He mumbles as an afterthought when he brushes past her shoulder, continuing his way down the corridor as if he'd never been interrupted in the first place.

A metaphorical cinderblock falls upon her head.

_Annoying?!_

She blinks after him, openly gaping at the _audacity_. The nerve! The absolute _gall_ of that guy! Her foot stomps childishly before she can help it and she crosses her arms with a huff.

But Naruto, clearly having _none_ of Sasuke's prickly bullshit, swivels around_, _lips floundering as he jabs a finger at his best friend's back. Obviously, he's not going to let Sasuke get away so easily.

"Now you wait just a minute, you bastard! Get back here and apologize to Sakura-chan right now or I'll—!"

"Shh! _Naruto_!" Sakura reprimands fiercely, yanking his accusing arm down. "S-Shut up!" She casts a terrified, fleeting glance at the Uchiha's back, praying he would ignore Naruto's unfinished threat and pretend none of this ever happened.

(Because the last thing she needs is to provoke the very guy who could crush what's left of her reputation in an instant!)

He's practically begging for a death wish!

But because she's somehow subject to torture, Sasuke's tall form has already paused mid-step. While a brief moment of tense silence hangs in the air, Sakura considers jumping out one of the windows that line the hallway. Since she's on the second floor, she calculates the possibility of whether she'd die on impact or simply cripple herself.

She stiffens, spine snapping straight as a toothpick, when Sasuke suddenly throws a challenging glare over his shoulder, black bangs flopping over narrowed eyes. "Or you'll _what_?"

Naruto reels, clearly taken off-guard by the sudden hostility dripping from the Uchiha's threatening tone.

_Wait a second, aren't they friends? _

Sakura looks between them helplessly, head swiveling side to side as if watching an intense match of tennis, wondering if she should say something to ease the tension when Naruto's jawline tweaks in anger, tan fingers curling into fists. He tilts his chin downward and without warning, once-friendly blue eyes fill with pure rage and a raw promise of pain that would send a lesser man screaming with his tail tucked between his legs. "_Or I'll beat your fucking ass._"

Sakura can't stop the sharp gasp that escapes past her lips. She takes several steps backward because Naruto looks simply terrifying and she _swears_ his pupils shrink to slits. The room temperature plummets until it feels as if she stands in a freezer, the hairs on her neck bristling.

Lightning crackles dangerously between them as they stare each other down—a mighty lion and panther in the jungle, circling each other, waiting for the perfect opportunity to lunge.

_W-What the heck is wrong with these guys! _

Oh gods, she's needs to get out of here, _right now_! (She has a chemistry class to get to, dammit!) There's no time for this! Before either of the boys have a chance to act on whatever personal ill-will they have towards each other, before they can sink their claws into each other's throats, Sakura skirts around the hallway in a pink blur, scraping up her lost papers and notebooks before scampering down the hall in the opposite direction.

"—_WasNiceToMeetYouGottaGo_!" She nearly trips over her own feet in her haste but she doesn't slow down nor does she dare to look back.

"Wait, Sakura-ch—!"

But she's already rounding the corner at the opposite end of the hall and out of sight.

_Seriously, how is she so fast?!_

༺º༻

**Please review and let me know what you think! :D Till next time -Sloshi**


	3. Chapter 2

**WARNING-ish**: So as much as i'd like to keep this story light, unfortunately I am a masochist and apparently enjoy pain and angst. (There will still be tons of humor, don't worry) So this is the part of the story where a bit of backstory and real drama happens as this will be a longer fic. This story will be a rollercoaster from feels to comic relief back to angst, then back to comic relief. So, if this isn't your cuppa tea; GOMEN!

But if you enjoy humorous stories with a peppering of angst and feels, this is for you :D

_(but everything is really just a side-plot for Sasusaku, hehe.)_

**_*Again, thank you to my beautiful editors: Audrey Alice_**

And on that note: _Welcome to the Jungle. (KHS) *headbangs*_

**~Captain!~**

**CHAPTER 2**

༺º༻

"What the hell do you mean you _ran away_?" Ino wants—_demands_—to know as they make their casual walk home from school. They tread up the steady incline of sidewalk that runs through the suburban neighborhood, book-bags slung upon their backs.

The March air is hot and sticky, heavy with humidity. It's normally bearable for Sakura, but today, as she thumbs the straps of her backpack to adjust its heavy weight, she finds that she wants nothing more than to curl into a sticky ball in the middle of her living room and never leave the air-conditioned house again.

She sighs when a car rushes by; a blast of air thrusts her pink strands from around her sweaty face and allows her a brief moment of relief before the humid air settles once more. "Well I wasn't just gonna _stand there_ and watch them rip each other apart." Sakura says as she kicks a pebble out of her path. "Sasuke-kun's terrifying as it is, but you should have _seen_ Naruto's face, Pig. I'm serious! You would have ran, too!" Sakura shudders involuntarily, vividly recalling the pure malice on his whiskered face.

_It was like he had turned into an entirely different person! _

Ino rolls her baby blue eyes. "I swear you're the only girl in the history of KHS to _run away_ from Naruto Uzumaki."

Sakura shoots her an impatient glare from the corner of her eyes. "You don't understand. He looked like. . ." She pauses in thought, green eyes wandering back to the sidewalk in front of her, before deciding with a shiver, "like he was _possessed_."

At this Ino howls in laughter and Sakura frowns. She attempts to elbow the blonde in the ribs, but Ino jumps to the side with ease and Sakura misses. "It's not funny! It's true!"

"Oh, Forehead." Ino says patronizingly, shaking her head as if she knows something Sakura clearly doesn't. "Sometimes it's annoying how clueless you are."

_". . . annoying." He mumbles as an afterthought when he brushes past her shoulder, continuing his way down the corridor as if he'd never been interrupted in the first place._

Sakura grits her teeth, adjusts her backpack and picks up the pace, deciding she no longer wants to speak to her best friend. Ino pumps her legs quickly to keep up beside her. "Hey—! What's your problem?"

"_Nothing_." Sakura bites out, walking even faster and blatantly ignoring the blonde's attempt at stopping her.

"Would you—hey, stop for a second! _Sakura_!" Ino grabs her shoulder roughly and that's all it takes.

Sakura spins on her heel to face the blonde, angry tears burning her green eyes because this whole day has been a disaster and _would it kill Ino to be a little more understanding_?

"You!" Sakura shouts. Another car rushes by, sending her pink strands whipping across her pained face. "_You're_ my problem! You're _always_ my problem!" Ino, for once, is stunned into silence and Sakura doesn't waste the opportunity to set the record straight, ignoring the way it feels as if she's swallowing glass. "Always getting me in trouble, always putting me in these—these _situations_ that _always_ end with me cleaning up the mess _you_ made! I'm the laughing stock of the school, Sasuke-kun hates me, I can't walk three seconds down the hall without someone whispering about me, and it's all because of that _stupid_. _Fucking_. _NOTE_!"

She's screaming now, tears falling freely down her cheeks. All the pent up anger, anxiety, and frustration she's withheld all day finally bursts at the seams. Her chest heaves wildly in rage, and as Ino's expression crumbles in hurt, a pang of guilt strikes her heart.

"I—" Ino begins softly, blinking away tears of her own. She shakes her head and takes a few steps back. "I'm sorry, Sakura, I didn't know—"

Sakura sniffles and she wipes her nose with the back of her hand. "Yeah, well, it's too late for that now, isn't it." Inhaling deeply, she closes her eyes in defeat. Yelling at Ino isn't going to solve anything, she knows, but it _hurts_.

_'. . . annoying.'_

But before Sakura can say another word, Ino turns on her heel and runs away, every word she had screamed sticking out of her retreating back like knives.

Sakura's shoulders slump and she turns to make her way home—alone.

༺º༻

Sakura knows before she even steps foot in her home that it's empty.

Dad is rarely ever home, always away on business trips that are apparently more important than raising his only daughter. She's made peace with it, really she has, but it's days like today that she wants to dial him up and scream into the receiver.

_Why aren't you here? _She imagines she'll say. _Why can't you just come home?_

But she would never do such a thing. She doesn't want her father to worry because she knows he's working really hard and doing everything he can to keep a roof over her head, especially now that Mom's gone. KHS isn't exactly the price of a cookie, either. It's not that she's ungrateful—Sakura loves and cherishes her father more than anything else in the world. She understands her father's sacrifice, albeit reluctantly, and despite not being around (like, _ever_), he's still indirectly taking care of her wellbeing. Technically speaking.

And sometimes, when he's feeling particularly generous, he'll send her money and packages—little souvenir trinkets and useless baubles from whatever country he's visiting—every once in a while, and although Sakura appreciates his gestures, it's just not the same. It doesn't make up for the nights she comes home to an empty house that too often feels like a tomb of what _should_ be.

But he's not a bad father, no.

Just—just a little non-traditional, that's all.

She sighs.

"I'm home." She calls out to nobody in particular as she toes off her shoes and slings her backpack onto the wooden floor by the door.

She shuffles into the kitchen where she pours herself a bowl of cereal for dinner, munching distractedly as she sits alone at a table seated for four. The single daffodil sitting inside the vase on the center of the table is wilting, but she pays it no mind because Dad will probably send another in the next few days, so she'll simply throw it out just like the last twenty she's received.

_'Thinking of you' _

the note always reads. She smiles bitterly at the irony, but Sakura doesn't have it in her to hold grudges. She doesn't hate her father.

(She just misses him. Everyday.)

She hates the emptiness of this house, Mom's ghost in the walls, smiling back at her from every picture frame. Every book she used to read—now dusty and unkempt from years of disuse—sits on the rosewood bookshelf in the living room. Right next to the worn armchair she used to read them in.

There's pieces of Mom everywhere, like scattered puzzle pieces that will never be whole again; her lavender perfume still clings to the knitted throw blanket that drapes over the back of the couch, untouched. Never moved or jostled—never washed. As if Dad's trying to savor every last lingering drop of Mom's existence; the testament of a man who has yet to move on. A man yet to make peace. Even after three years, she knows it still keeps him awake at night. It keeps her awake, too.

Placing her empty bowl in the sink (she'll wash it tomorrow), Sakura drags herself to her room and flops onto her bed, too lazy to change out of her uniform and too tired to take off her knee-high socks. Reaching behind her head, she unties the yellow ribbon from her pink tresses and lets the rest of her hair tumble over her face in waves.

_Tomorrow will be better_, she tells herself, because who cares if everyone thinks she was rejected by the baseball captain. Who cares if she's the joke of the school. Who cares if Sasuke hates her and thinks she's a creep and a whore and—

'_Lick it off? Oh, Pig. I'd let Sasuke-kun do far more than just that.'_

_". . . You're the one who pitched the note like it was a _**_fucking baseball _**_across the room! Suddenly it's _my_ fault?!" _

_"—the girl Sasuke-kun _**_rejected_**_."_

_"No way, I would _**_hate_**_ to be her."_

_"Did she really throw a love letter at his head? How _**_embarrassing_**_."_

_"You should have seen the bastard's face at lunch when someone brought it up. He was so _**_embarrassed_**_!"_

_". . . and it's all because of that _**_stupid_**_. _**_Fucking_**_. _**_NOTE_**_!" _

_"I—I'm sorry, Sakura, I didn't know—"_

_". . . _**_annoying_**_."_

She covers her ears as if the action will somehow quiet the voices inside her head. Her shoulders shake quietly and her throat burns as if she has swallowed the sun itself. Her airways tighten, and tighten, until she's choking. Choking on her panic, on her mortification, on her guilt, on her loneliness. Hot tears roll down her cheeks, dampening the white fluffy pillow beneath her crumpling face.

_Inhale. Exhale. In and out. In and out. _

Sakura's breath comes out in short, quick bursts of desperation. Faster and faster and faster. Her chest heaves against the firm mattress, lungs constricting and expanding and constricting and—

_Breathe_. Mom's voice.

Lightheaded, as if her brain is full of hot air and helium, she sucks in a generous amount of oxygen and holds it in her expanded lungs—

_10 . . . 9 . . . 8 . . . _

_It'll be okay_.

Hellfire burns within her chest; crackling and singeing the seams of her lungs as she _holds and holds _that pocket of air with every thread of her being—

_7 . . . 6 . . . 5 . . . _

_It'll be okay. _Soothing, a whisper riding along the breeze of her open window to caress her sticky face.

Dizzy stars speckle beyond her vision, light particles dancing and swimming like white fireflies. Beautiful as they are, she clenches her eyes shut—

_It'll be okay. _The ghost of light fingertips trail along her cheeks, each stroke filled with so much love and tenderness that it brings a fresh new wave of tears pouring down her face.

Cold sweat clings to her like a second skin as it gathers in the nape of her neck, in the palms that still press flat against her ears, and soaks her school uniform—

_4 . . . 3 . . . 2 . . . _

_It'll be okay._ Just a little longer—she can do this. She _can_ do this.

_1 . . . _

She thrusts a heavy exhale from her lungs, air exploding from her lips. A whisper of calm snakes through her body as she swallows another gulp of oxygen and repeats the process. Her chest aches, eyes burning like fire as her mascara bleeds into her tears and irritates her eyes. But she's okay now.

Her breathing slides into a steady rhythm after five minutes of controlling its pace. She rolls onto her back, hands overlapped on her stomach as she stares up at the ceiling, glassy eyes empty.

"Now what, Mom?"

The rustle of curtains dancing on the phantom breeze that slips through the window is the only answer.

༺º༻

The next morning, Ino doesn't walk Sakura to school.

_So _that's_ how it is, huh? Well, who needs her anyways!_

༺º༻

Sakura's heart hammers inside her chest when she approaches the open classroom door of Biology, dreading each second that brings her closer and closer to what is essentially the beginning of the end of her short life.

(Prepares herself for the walk of shame.)

She keeps her eyes glued to the floor as she casually strolls in, pretending not to notice the way a hush falls over the room as she enters. She's so nervous, she's trying not to trip over her own two feet—feeling as vulnerable as a mouse slinking into a nest full of ravenous hawks, clicking their sharp beaks, ready to shred her into ribbons the moment she makes an error.

Hyper-aware and self-conscious, a sea of gleaming, predatory eyes following her every step, she swallows back the lump in her throat and pushes onward. A nod.

_I'm not going down that easily! Cha!_

Crushing her notebooks to her chest, trying to make herself as small as possible, Sakura takes the few steps up to her desk with borrowed confidence, not daring to lift her eyes for a second, lest she meet the judgmental stares of those who criticize her or the sorry looks of those who pity her. Lest she falter in her stride.

She doesn't look at Sasuke and she doesn't look at Ino. (Even though she _knows_ they're both openly staring at her with varying degrees of contempt.)

_Who cares what they think! Pull it together, Sakura! Don't let them bring you down._

The moment she settles into her desk, the room buzzes with hushed conversation. She can't help it; she glances over at Sasuke and her heart flutters. Thankfully, he's no longer looking at her. Instead he has earphones in, reading a book she thinks is awfully thick to be anything but a textbook. She studies the side-profile of his handsome face; aristocratic nose, high cheekbones, fair skin, bangs the color of the darkest night dangling from his forehead as he leans forward and studies the book before him . . .

She frowns and drops her gaze.

_I really am sorry, Sasuke-kun. I hope you can forgive me._

Then, she slides her gaze to the blonde sitting next to him, frown deepening even further when she sees Ino flicking through her phone.

_I'm sorry, too, Ino. I know it's my fault—I should have never yelled at you yesterday. _

Kakashi-sensei is late as usual, which suits her just fine, so Sakura lays out her notebook and begins to doodle distractedly. When she catches bits and pieces of whispers around her, she blinks when she hears the words '_project_' and '_partners_'. But before she can turn to ask anyone about it, someone calls out to her.

"Sakura-chan!" A familiar voice stage-whispers from behind her. She winces. "Hey! Sakura-chan! Back here!"

Chewing on her lip, she wonders if it's too late to transfer schools. (Or countries.)

With a defeated sigh, she cautiously looks over her shoulder to see Naruto waving enthusiastically from the back of the classroom, smiling at her like she's the center of his universe. Smiling at her like she makes him _happy_. Sakura glances around nervously, because the last thing she needs is another rumor flying about.

(Jumping from baseball captain to the catcher the next day; how fickle.)

Deciding not to indulge him, Sakura turns back to her notebook—she doesn't see the way his face falls—and twirls her pencil between her index and middle finger thoughtfully.

_I mean, he was pretty nice to me yesterday._ She scolds herself, _And even though he did make fun of me, he also stood up for me. That counts for something, right? Perhaps I should be more grateful . . . It's _Naruto Uzumaki_, after all. Any other girl would kill to have his attention and yet, here I am, avoiding him like the plague. _

However, the moment she goes to turn around and give Naruto the reassuring smile he deserves, Kakashi-sensei ambles in with a delightful: "Good morning, kiddos!"

(He sounds far more cheerful than anyone has the right to be so early in the morning.)

There's a noticeable shift in the classroom as everyone reluctantly opens their notebooks and binders, (she doesn't miss the way Sasuke respectfully takes out his earphones.) Everyone's ready for another boring forty-five minutes of lecture, until Kakashi-sensei suddenly claps his hands together, bringing all attention front and center. Sakura shifts in her seat.

"Alrighty then, let's get started." He strolls casually over to his desk where he reaches into a drawer (a few kids snicker when they see the orange book poking out of his back pocket) and pulls out—pulls out a _hat_. "I trust everyone's had a little time to think about the senior project since yesterday, hm?"

_S-S-Senior project?! _

Her eyes almost fall out of their sockets. She definitely did not know about this! Without thinking, she leans to the side, hissing to the guy next to her. "_Psssst_." He flinches away with a glare. "What the heck is he talking about?"

"Maybe if you stayed to listen after class yesterday instead of throwing around love letters, _you'd know_." He spits sourly.

"How rude." Sakura mutters, crossing her arms and tilting her chin away from him. ". . . and it wasn't a love letter." She grouches quietly, defending her dignity.

(It's none of his business anyway!)

Kakashi-sensei leans back against his desk languidly, one hand in his pocket and the other holding out that ridiculous hat. "As I'm sure you're all aware, this project will take up a considerable portion of your grade—" several people moan at this and he slips his hand out of his pocket to hold up a placating hand. "—_however_, you'll be pleased to know you won't be tackling this alone. In this hat here," he gives the object in his hand a cute little shake, "I have all of your names written on slips of paper. In a moment, I will draw two slips at a time; whoever's name is drawn along with yours will be your partner. No exceptions. Any questions?"

An excited murmur spreads throughout the classroom before a hand shoots up. "Kakashi-sensei! What is this project, exactly?"

The teacher's cheek bones rise with a smile beneath his concealed face. "I'm so glad you asked!" He says too merrily to be anything but suspicious, placing his free hand on his hip. "You will all be physically re-creating a cell model. To put it simply, you—and your partner—will build a 3D cell structure that includes the cell's anatomy and function using whatever objects you'd like." He pauses to let the information sink in before continuing. "It's a tedious assignment, yes, but since you will all be working in teams of two, I'm sure you'll find it much easier to manage. Teamwork is important, kiddos, and if I find out one of your partners is doing most or all the work," A dramatic pause. Then, an innocent smile. "You all fail the course."

An ominous blanket of heavy silence falls over the room. There's a handful of terrified gulps all around her, as the students swallow his threat.

Kakashi-sensei's eye crinkles with bliss. "Now, let's see what fate awaits you all, shall we?" He looks so happy with himself it's almost offensive.

Sakura swallows.

_This can't end well._

The teacher begins to pluck names from the hat jovially, as if he's genuinely enjoying the misery on his students' faces when he sees some of them are less than pleased with their chosen partner. She's trying to focus—she _wants_ to focus—but it's hard with Sasuke's perfect black head in her peripheral vision. It's difficult not to look at someone as attractive as he is, total jerk or not. (And he's definitely a jerk, she's decided.)

Additionally, she can't help but shoot guilty looks at the back of the blonde head next to him. _Look at me_, she commands as if she has telepathic powers. _Look at me, so I can tell you I'm sorry! _Sakura wills again silently, desperately_. _Ino doesn't.

Kakashi-sensei calls name after name. None of them hers.

And so Sakura blows a pink strand out of her pretty face, cradling her chin in her palms, defeated. A storm cloud gathers over her head, rumbling with guilt. Was Ino really that upset with her? That she couldn't even look at her? Surely, she understood she had just been upset.

. . . _Right_?

Sakura scratches her head. Sighing, she allows herself to space out for the remainder of name-calling, daydreaming of obsidian eyes and spiked raven hair until—

"Yamanaka Ino and—" he reaches back into the hat and pulls out another slip. "Naruto Uzumaki."

Sakura blinks, stiffening. Throwing a look to her best friend, whose back is ramrod straight, she sucks in a breath. _Naruto and Ino_? Well, that will certainly make for conversation at lunch. And in the halls.

"And finally, last but certainly not least—" he chirps gleefully, reaching into the hat of doom and pulling out a slip, "Sakura Haruno and . . ."

Sakura snaps her head to Kakashi-sensei. Her heart drops. She realizes, now that everyone's name has been called, that there are only two students left whose names have not been called. Her _own_ . . . and—

_(Drumroll please!)_

"—Sasuke Uchiha."

"_Nooooo_!" She moans at the same time the entire class erupts into a cacophony of suggestive _'Ooooo!'_s and conspiring, howling laughter. Wolves. All of them. Sakura sinks into her seat in despair, covering her head in her hands as her heart skyrockets into overdrive. _Why_? Just . . . why? What had she done to deserve this torment? Merely a day ago she would have been over the moon to be Sasuke Uchiha's partner—in fact she might have jumped into the air and clicked her heels together in absolute delight, and then roared her victory to the rooftops of Konoha, triumphant fists raised to the sky. But . . .

_But_. . . After—after that note . . .

Gods, that stupid, stupid note.

Laughter bounces all around the room, ricocheting in her eardrums and reverberating through her soul. She shrinks, tears glossing over her eyes, as if they're feeding off her misery and—

"_Shut up_! All of you!" A voice roars from the back of the classroom. The laughter slices into silence, cleaved by the ringing threat in Naruto's tone. Sakura whips her head over her shoulder, eyes wide, to face Naruto's deadly vulpine scowl. Oh, no. "It's not funny! Whoever makes fun of Sakura-chan, I will personally kick your ass—believe it!"

Absolute _silence_.

She blinks in astonishment, eyes trailing about the room to study the reactions of her classmates, only to find everyone exchanging nervous glances, shrugging to each other as if to ask: _I didn't know they were friends, did you?_ Even Ino is gaping up at him. It's only Sasuke who doesn't even bother to look up from his book, utterly bored and disinterested; as if he's used to such odious behavior. Sometimes she forgets exactly who Naruto Uzumaki is. The king of the jungle; respected, revered. The catcher of KHS. Sasuke Uchiha's best friend . . . (Or rival? She wasn't quite sure anymore.) But one thing she does know: nobody dares to cross him. And he—

_He_ . . .

Sakura's face heats up, turning forward in her seat until she finds Kakashi-sensei regarding Naruto with silent, secret amusement sparkling in his lone grey eye.

"Now, now, Naruto." He drawls lazily, as if he couldn't care less what the obnoxious blond does. She _knows_ he doesn't. "Let's not interrupt class. I wouldn't want to have to send you to the principal's office."

An empty, useless threat. Being someone like Naruto Uzumaki makes you untouchable by default. Being _anyone_ on the KHS baseball team makes you untouchable by default. That's just the way it was here—Konoha High School thrives on the pride of their most beloved sport, as if it were the only thing keeping the very walls standing. As if the players hold rank of their own. Going against any of them would be sacrilege—instant social suicide.

Shiny, tall, and gold baseball trophies line the hallways of KHS, enclosed in glass cases lit by mini-lamps as if they were extraordinary paintings on display in a museum. Picture after picture, generations of KHS baseball teams hang on every corner of the corridors; rich with history. Every achievement mounted and hung for all to see. She's pretty sure the school janitors operate a rotation specifically under order to clean and polish each and every trophy until their own reflection shines back every night.

(There's seriously no way they stay that sparkly clean by themselves.)

However, despite Naruto being catcher of KHS, despite being one of the most powerful guys in school, she knows who _really_ wears the crown—who pulls the strings, who calls the shots. She can't help but wonder what it would've been like if that had been _Sasuke_ making that threat . . .

(They'd probably bow down and kiss his feet, crying and begging for forgiveness!)

A chill spider-walks down her spine. Baseball captain or no; Sasuke Uchiha is terrifying in his deceiving silence. A cunning panther, observing from the shadows. Judging, calculating—always watching somehow, as if those steely, beautiful eyes were on the back of his head too.

She knows Sasuke, Naruto, and their lackeys could land someone flat if they wanted to; destroy their reputation, obliterate any potential of moving forward in their academic career.

They had power like that.

In fact, she's seen it happen. Everyone has. One year, on the tail end of a home game that she and Ino (and the rest of the school) came to watch, their newest player made a snide comment to Sasuke about his pitch—the argument had escalated until it turned toward personal matters, and the moment the unfortunate kid spat some nonsense about Sasuke's parents, his face was in the dirt.

Sasuke had been the first to pounce, but Naruto and the rest of the baseball team joined in not a second later—fierce loyalty to their captain overriding all else that hot summer day as they repeatedly ground the guy into the gritty dust. Like a pride of lions they kicked and clawed and ripped the kid apart, some underlying wrath guiding their fists that Sakura didn't quite understand. It wasn't until people started screaming, running onto the field and yanking at their uniforms that they finally stopped. The kid was hauled onto a stretcher, where Sakura had watched in horror as the ambulance took him far, far away. Ino had taken her hand and squeezed it.

Needless to say, he was thrown off the team. And the next day the kid was not seen at school; nor the next day after that, or the day after that. Turns out the kid had been forced to transfer schools and nobody has heard from him since. She remembers how the rumors ripped through the school like wildfire that week, the buzz a combination of awe and terror. _I heard he was murdered_, someone had whispered cryptically in the halls. Sakura highly doubted that but it didn't make it any less horrifying.

The point is, _nobody_ crosses the KHS baseball team. Least of all, those who live to tell the tale.

Sakura tries very hard not to think about that note and the fate it spells out for her in thick bold letters.

**Fucked.**

"Now then," Kakashi-sensei purrs, smug as a cheshire cat. He looks over his surly shoulder at the clock above the chalkboard. "We still have about"—he teeters a hand—"thirty minutes or so left of class. I'll let you use the rest of this time to get with your partner and discuss the project. Make sure you exchange contact information, _please_." He sighs. "I do not want to have to deal with one hundred questions on how to get ahold of your partner." Kakashi-sensei walks to his desk, flops down onto his chair, and pulls out that orange book without a lick of shame. He flips to a page, crossing an ankle over his knee. "Begin."

Scared would be the very last adjective Sakura would use to describe herself in this moment. _Horrified_ was far more fitting. All around her, there's a bustle of movement and scraping of chairs as everyone rises from their seats to find their respected partners. But Sakura doesn't move.

She _can't_ move.

_This is it. This is the end. See you soon, Mom._

She's partnered with Sasuke Uchiha_. The_ baseball captain. The guy who has read, in her own handwriting, that she would pull him between her thighs and fuck him any which way possible. The guy who read with his own two eyes that she's liked him for four years. The guy that she _has_ liked for four years_. _And the guy who now hates her guts.

She will have to work with him. Exchange numbers with him. Share _breathing_ space with him. They'll probably have to go to each other's houses, shop for supplies together, _be_ together several hours a day each week for however long this tortuous project will take place.

She can't wrap her head around it.

_It'll be okay_, Mom whispers.

And so Sakura stands, gathers up her belongings, and jumps face first into the deep end.

༺º༻

She makes her way down the little staircase between the rows of desks, students still straggling about looking for their own partner. Sasuke hadn't moved an inch, clearly expecting _her_ to come to _him_. (Surprise, surprise.)

One foot after another, her heart slams against her rib cage with every step that closes the distance between she and Sasuke Uchiha. She pauses, however, when she sees Ino climbing up the steps in her path, on her way to the back of the classroom to partner up with none other than Naruto Uzumaki himself.

Ino meets her pleading green eyes for less than a second before she averts her gaze and trudges up the stairs, shoving past Sakura's shoulder with an air as cold as ice. She stumbles sideways a bit before regaining her footing, eyes wide.

_So we're really enemies now, huh?_

Sakura shakes it off, they've had plenty of stupid arguments before. And made up in less than a day, every time. She ignores the tiny voice in her head that says this time is different. Sakura holds her chin high as she takes the final few steps, where she now stands at the end of the long desk row.

Where the baseball captain doesn't even turn her way. He stares down at his textbook, flips a page.

Sakura clears her throat, which has gone as dry as the Suna desert, smiles brightly, and attempts to keep the tremble out of her voice as she says kindly, politely—as if this is the first time they've ever met, as if he hadn't previously snubbed her, as if he hadn't read the most controversial note in all of KHS history that is now stored in his arsenal, which could be used to blackmail her any time he pleases: "U-Um . . . Hello, Sasuke-kun."

He says nothing.

_Nothing_.

So Sakura shifts her feet, tosses her pink tresses over her shoulder and tries again, tucking away the hurt that cracks her heart at his blatant dismissal. "I'm Sakura Haru—"

He cocks his head towards her.

She bristles like a petrified, pink cat. It takes everything in Sakura's willpower not to stumble backwards and crash into the cedar desk behind her when he levels her gaze; onyx searing into emerald, sucking her into those hypnotic black holes. Up close, finally in a situation where she can really _see_ him, she discovers that his eyes are not the bottomless pits she once saw, once thought they were, but rather grey-flecked pools of depth—full of an eerie wisdom that stretches far beyond his age.

_Not eyes of a boy, but eyes of a man who has seen too much and knew too little. _

She knows that look. Sees it staring back at her in the mirror every morning.

_Loss_.

For a man who has everything, she wonders what it is Sasuke Uchiha has lost.

She crushes her notebooks to her heaving chest so hard her knuckles bleach white.

"I know who you are." Silk-wrapped steel—that was the baritone voice of Sasuke Uchiha. The sharp planes of his face are even more beautiful up close. Underneath the fluorescent classroom lights, his pale, fair skin looks as smooth and silky as the inside of a white rose. Long, sooty lashes frame eyes that are narrowing in suspicion at her lengthening silence. His lips are not full nor thin, but balanced. And curving downwards into a frown, which somehow serves to make him even more handsome. Sharp raven bangs fall over his eyes, like jagged strips of night.

She gulps.

"—just stand there or are you going to sit down?"

She blinks, not realizing he had spoken. Cursing herself, she scuttles to the empty seat beside him—ignoring the fact that it's _Ino's_ seat—and places her notebook in front of her with quivering fingers. He's so close to her she can smell him; the scent of sandalwood and sharp male pheromones fill her nostrils until she's dizzy with overwhelming attraction. She doesn't know how Ino sits next to him everyday and keeps herself together. She supposes it must be a blessing and a curse, as it's probably the reason Ino's failing Biology. His mere presence has a gravity of its own.

Sakura peeks up at him from behind a curtain of pink hair. Heart thumping wildly.

Sasuke pulls out a sleek silver phone, sliding his thumb along the lock screen. His apps are organized by color and function, but what takes her by surprise is the flat black of his background. No picture of his baseball team, or Naruto, or even family or pets. Strictly buisness.

He turns to face her, onyx eyes assessing her carefully, as if she's a wild animal escapee from a zoo and not a five-foot girl scared to death of his very existence. He opens his mouth and closes it like he's hesitating, before finally settling on: "If I give you my number, you will not share it with anyone."

A command. A velvet-wrapped threat.

Sakura inhales sharply. "O-Of course not, I would never—"

"Good." He says, and offers the phone to her. "Put your number in my phone."

She must stare at the device long enough to breach his patience, because he shoves it into her hand. Chewing her lip incessantly, she puts her number in his phone and he does the same with hers. She cringes when he sees her background—a hot J-pop singer with his shirt off, screaming into the mic on stage, muscles rippling under the concert lights. But he doesn't comment. Not that she expected him to.

She wasn't even sure what she expected to begin with.

He hands back her hot pink phone. "Do not call me. Do not text me. Do not contact me unless it has to do with this project." _This_ project, not _our_ project. "Understood?"

A flash of unexpected anger courses through her. Her fingers tighten around her phone and she opens her mouth to retort. How _dare_ he just assume she was going to—!

_Oh, wait. That's right . . . _

The note.

Her lips snap shut.

Sasuke probably thinks she plans to call him up every night, searching for a steamy hook up—_against the wall, against the cherry tree behind the school, in the middle of his baseball field_. She wants to vomit. So much damage that she can't take back, can't fix now that it's already been said and done. Too late, she thinks, to salvage whatever potential they could have had, even as acquaintances.

(You live and you learn.)

Sakura nods glumly.

Seemingly satisfied, Sasuke returns his attention to his textbook.

"So—so what now?" She dares to ask after an excruciating moment of awkward silence. He can't possibly believe she's just going to sit there in silence the entire period while he casually pretends she doesn't exist. Right?

The white earphones plugging into his ears gives her as much of an answer as if he'd screamed it.

_Don't talk to me. _He says without bothering to open his mouth. As if she's not even worth the effort.

_Oh, I know he did not just—!_

She doesn't think. Sakura reaches up and yanks out the earphone he has just finished putting into his right ear.

༺º༻

***PLOT INTENSIFIES* **

Also, I just wanted to add: based on the feedback I see a lot of love for Ino, which is really awesome except that you'll have to be prepared for some serious misunderstandings between the two in this story. I tried to stay a bit true to canon, in that sense. (of course they'll eventually reconcile) so don't hate me too much!

**Don't forget to review and let me know whatcha' think :D**

**Till next time ~ Sloshi**


	4. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Okay so, I figured since this was a shorter chapter I might as well just update as this is essentially just the continuation of the same day. Also, I'd just like to add in terms of Sasuke; he's going to seem really cold at first, perhaps a bit harsh (I swear he's a sweetheart), but this is intentional because I want this slowburn realistic as possible. Sasuke has never interacted with Sakura up until the note, so naturally he's a bit sketch. All of these characters will have major character development, so I just ask for patience :D Regarding Sasuke's headphones, that will all be explained in good time.

***special thanks to Audrey Alice**

_Annnnnd_ on with the show! (Flings curtains open)

**~CAPTAIN!~**

**CHAPTER 3**

༺º༻

As swift as a striking cobra, Sasuke snatches her wrist, the thin earphone dangling from her fingertips.

"S-Sasuke-kun—!" she gasps, fear twisting her face as she blinks wide-eyed down at the strong hand curling around her wrist in an iron grip. Ripples of electricity course through her veins at the sudden contact, sparking a fire in her belly that seeps downwards into dangerous territory. The feeling catches her so off guard she almost chokes.

He could probably snap her wrist like a toothpick if he so wished.

(And she _so_ hopes he doesn't wish!)

"Do _not_," he hisses through his bared white teeth before leaning a little closer—his warm breath fanning across the tip of her nose contradicts the solid ice in his tone. "ever touch my headphones again."

"Let—go of me!" She gasps desperately, struggling against his hold, using her other hand to try and pry his scorching fingers off. It isn't painful in the least, but it's startling all the same. Her tiny fingers are useless against his large steel grip. Around them, others have fallen silent to watch the show, eyes twinkling with anticipation. After that "love letter" incident, even the quietest, most innocent students are studying them with piqued interest.

(Doesn't anyone know how to mind their own damn business in this school!)

Just as she's getting ready to bite his hand and tear into it like a squeaky chew toy, he lets go of her wrist and the unexpected release of resistance causes her to nearly slap herself in the face.

It takes a moment for Sakura to contemplate what has just happened as she rubs her wrist, bottom lip trembling. She blinks up at him in disbelief. Being territorial was one thing, but seriously, that was a little too far! It wasn't like she _broke_ his stupid earphones!

_Talk about touchy!_

His face remains beautifully blank, void of any emotion, the anger that had been there moments ago vanishing like a whisper in the dark. As if she'd only imagined it.

But then, Sasuke closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose, like he's attempting to suppress whatever emotion is haunting him beneath that handsome mask. Like he's trying to gain control.

"Look." He says finally, fingers still pinched between his closed eyes. He shuts his textbook with a quiet _thump_. "We can either meet at my house or yours for the project"—there it was again. _The_ project, not _our_ project—"but I have practice everyday, so it will have to be after that."

"That's—that's fine." Sakura breathes, a little shook that he's even speaking to her at all.

"So which is it."

"Huh?"

"Which _house_?"

"Oh, it doesn't matter to me." She says with a shrug.

His brow twitches.

"My dad's never home, so we would have the whole place to ourselves." As soon as the words leave her lips, she wishes she could take them back. By the look on Sasuke's face, it's clear he has taken it as an invitation to her bed and not for what it really was. Peace and quiet. She doesn't personally _know_ Sasuke's family—whether they're loud or annoying or as pestering as the blond he lets hang around him all the time. Although she highly doubts it, she wasn't just going to _assume_. She just figured her house would be ideal for school work.

Apparently not.

"My house it is, then." He slides his textbook into his book bag, rises from his chair and slings the bag over his shoulder.

Sakura cranes her neck to look up at him and tries not the let the naked panic show on her face. "Wait—where are you going? Class isn't over until—"

He slips out of the classroom without another glance back. Kakashi-sensei doesn't stop him.

༺º༻

Lunch is awkward.

Ino pokes at her usual salad, pushing around the iceberg lettuce and kale, before stabbing a cherry tomato with her fork and popping it in her mouth. She hasn't spoken a word since she sat down, but Sakura is too jilted by her last interaction with Sasuke to even notice. Or care.

Karin and Tenten talk quietly amongst themselves, sensing the rift between Ino and Sakura but knowing better than to ask. Hinata pinches a boiled egg between her chopsticks from her steaming ramen bowl, far too polite to pry. Even if the nervous glances she shoots between them suggest she wants to do otherwise.

After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, Karin finally turns to Sakura, unable to stand it anymore. The pinkette takes a mindless sip of her lemonade, eyes distant as she stares off into space. "_Soooo_," Karin drawls casually, gauging her expression with calculating scarlet eyes. "I heard you got partnered up with Sasuke Uchiha."

Sakura nods, but says nothing. She takes another sip.

Karin nudges Tenten with an elbow, shooting her a _look_; a silent plea for help. The brunette blinks, sputtering into her tea before catching on and says to Sakura cheerfully: "Aren't you _excited_? You get to work one-on-one with the baseball captain for weeks! Even if he read that note—" The word is clipped by a yelp when a painful heel stomps on her foot beneath the table. Tenten turns to glare at the culprit, but Karin gives her a look that says _don't_.

Tenten clears her throat. "—I mean . . . This is your chance to steal his heart! Don't let those four years go to waste, Sakura. You're a step above everyone else now. I mean, seriously, a chance like this is one in a million. You can't tell me this isn't fate!" Tenten throws her lanky arms in the air for emphasis.

Karin crosses her arms with a smirk and nods in approval. She pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose before adding: "Tenten and I got partnered up with a few of the baseball players, too, ya' know. Of course, I got paired with the lesser of the two: _Suigetsu_. I always thought he was a bit of a freak." She sniffs. "She got Neji. Lucky bitch."

Tenten's lips curve into a smug smirk, chocolate eyes sparkling with triumph.

"I-I got paired up with K-Kiba." Hinata tacks on quietly.

"That's awesome." Sakura says absently, stirring a spoon around her cold soup, hardly listening. She wants to be happy for them, she does, but her mind is heavy with too many burdens to try and crack a smile. Even a fake one for their sake.

She rubs her wrist for the umpteenth time. Whenever she daydreamed of Sasuke (every second of everyday), his touch was always gentle—like a mighty knight laying his princess upon a bed of rose petals, his steel hands soft and warm. Nothing like the cold, vice grip he displayed earlier in his burst of—_whatever_ that was.

Okay, so, _maybe_ she provoked it.

But that wasn't the point. It wasn't like she went and killed his dog or something—she took out an_ earphone_ and he'd lost it. And the bitter wrath in his eyes had frozen in her memory, the way he _looked_ at her; like she had just committed a crime punishable by death. Then, it was gone. Vanished. Like his emotional state was as volatile as the rolling sea.

A glimpse of imperfection underneath a perfect face.

She hates that it makes her like him even more. Hates that complexity that draws her so, reels her in like a fish on a line. Maybe it's because it's proof that he's human; not just the emotionless, aloof robot everyone makes him out to be. Proof that the tiniest thread of empathy exists within him—however deep it's buried. For four years, all Sakura has ever known is rumors. Rumors and lies and exaggerations that twist his image into things everyone _wants_ to see.

Of course, nobody _wants_ to see the parts of someone that make them ugly. Especially if you're the baseball captain. _Especially_ if you're Sasuke Uchiha. His faults are overlooked, snuffed by the traits that make him this shiny, perfect person whose every attribute is flawless. Sakura wonders if this front, this _facade_, is on purpose, if it's calculated and practiced and preformed like an art.

Free only behind a closed curtain.

But without those ugly pieces, without those little ticks and bumps and imperfections, you're really only left with half a person. Half of what makes you who you really are.

She wonders if Naruto has seen this other half of Sasuke Uchiha. Wonders if anyone ever has.

"Are you o-okay?" Hinata's gentle voice slips through her daze and Sakura blinks.

"Huh?"

"You look like y-you're crying."

_Oh._

Was she?

Sakura wipes at her eyes and is horrified to find that they're wet with unshed tears. She can't help it.

"Oh my god, Sakura! Did it really go that bad?" Tenten cries, guilt-stricken. "Was it because I said something about the note? Oh, I'm so sorry I didn't mean to bring it up—"

"No!" Sakura blurts. "No, no, no it's not that. I'm fine, really." She catches Ino's fleeting glance but it's gone before she can blink. The blonde pokes at her uneaten salad to look uninterested. But Sakura knows better. "I'm just—it's been a long week. I'm tired and stressed about this project, that's all. Don't worry about me." Sakura smiles and means it.

(And it's totally that time of the month.)

Tenten exhales in relief. But Ino doesn't buy it. "He hates you, doesn't he." She states casually, not bothering to look up from her meal. (If you could call it that.)

Hinata chokes on her bubble tea. "I-Ino—!"

"That's why you're upset."

Well, she's not _wrong_. She's pretty sure Sasuke _does_ hate her, but . . . That's not quite the reason why Sakura is so ruffled. She feels excruciating empathy for a guy she barely knows—has spoken to all of ten minutes, but liked all of four years. Call her crazy or emotional or psycho or _whatever_ it is she's feeling, but something about Sasuke Uchiha makes her feel like she's not alone.

"Probably." Sakura shrugs.

Nobody speaks after that, which suits Sakura just fine.

Naruto's hearty laugh drifts through the cafeteria and Sakura turns her attention towards his—_their_—table. It's hard to see through the baseball players play-wrestling and plucking fries off each other's plates, but she sees him.

The blond is clutching at his chest, as if he's just heard the world's funniest joke. Beside him sits Sasuke, as usual. But he's flicking through his phone, bored, unperturbed by the ruckus around him. Sakura wonders what he's looking at—he has no social media page that she knows of, and judging by the efficient organization she saw on his phone in Biology, there's probably nothing on there for his own amusement, either. So she wonders.

Completely withdrawn, detached from the people who are supposedly his best friends all around him, he sits on his phone.

So Sakura takes out her own phone, zooms through her contacts until she sees **Sasuke Uchiha** and taps it.

_"Do not call me. Do not text me. Do not contact me unless it has to do with this project." _

She bites her lip. _Don't do it Sakura, you heard what he said! Don't give him another reason to hate you._

She drafts a text.

_'Hey.'_

Her thumb hovers over the Send button, hesitation rolling through her body and anxiety spiking like a seismograph during an earthquake. (Is it just her, or is it hot in here?) Okay, _wait_. Maybe she shouldn't just send a one word text—give him something to leech off of, to really reply to. (She'll probably get left on read anyway.) Her thumbs dance away on the keyboard, deleting and retyping and deleting until an appropriate message stares back.

_'Hey. I'm really sorry about earlier. Maybe we can start over? We never discussed meeting times. When should we start?'_

The moment she taps send, her eyes flick to him. Watching, waiting, gauging his reaction. Searching his beautiful face for any slight shift in his facial features to indicate whether he's seen it or not. He's still looking at his phone, so he should see it any second now. _Any second now . . . _

His thumb pauses_. _

Sakura sucks in a sharp breath. Heartbeat pounding in her ears and blood rushing to her cheeks, flooding her face like a bursting dam. Her body prickles with anticipation as he blinks slowly, those dark eyelashes fluttering ever so lightly.

_Please don't be upset—please don't be upset—please don't be upset—_

Sakura glances down at her phone, heart jolting at the word '_read_' beneath her text bubble.

And then she waits. And waits. And waits.

_Be patient_, Mom says.

He doesn't reply.

༺º༻

Sakura ruffles her damp pink locks with a towel, dons a silk cream night-slip, and flops onto the edge of her unmade bed.

Her bare toes curl into the plush white carpet as she gazes around her tacky room, cream walls plastered with posters; J-pop bands and movie stars and cute, little anime characters of her childhood. Shelves are lined with stuffed animals, books, and trinkets—each with a story of their own, tied to memories of a past long-forgotten. Willingly forgotten.

As her green eyes slide over each of them, there's a particular stuffed animal that catches her eye.

A pink bear with mix-matched buttons for eyes, _'I love you'_ sewn with white thread on the plush little heart between its stuffed paws.

And suddenly she's taken back to a hot summer evening, to a festival with glittering lights and music and games and delicious, simmering food served on fun, fancy sticks.

_Seven-year-old Sakura tosses a ring with all the might her fragile, little body can muster. _

_Large, green eyes watch with baited breath as the blue ring taps the lip of a glass bottle—before it rebounds and clatters to the bottom of the game tent. _

_Again. She throws the next one like a frisbee, the yellow ring flies over the sea of glass bottle necks, overshooting her mark by miles before it slaps the back of the tent and falls uselessly to the ground. _

_"Last one." The man tells her, his handlebar mustache twitching with an amused smile as he hands her a green ring. _

_Her tiny hands wrap around it. Study it. Then, she flicks her hard gaze to the bottles, calculating the amount of force and precise aim she'll need to shoot her final shot. A winning shot. _

_She bites her lip, emerald eyes hardening in concentration._

I can do this!

_She draws her little hand back, grip tightening around the plastic as she adjusts her footing, spacing her feet apart. Eyeing a particular bottle in the middle, she angles the ring over her left shoulder and then, in one swift movement, she flicks the ring across the game platform. _

_And misses. _

_She turns to the man, tears filling her moon-sized eyes. "Can I try again?" She begs. "Please? I swear I'll get it next time."_

_"Sorry, kid." He says with an apologetic smile, ruffling her bob of pink tresses with a large hand. "I'll need another token before you can try again." _

_Sakura shoves both hands into her pockets, digging around until she pulls them inside out. Nothing. That was her last token. Tears stream down her round cheeks and she wipes them away with the back of her hands, sniffling. She looks to the pink bear on the prize shelf, the reason she's been trying so desperately to win for the last fifteen minutes, and cries harder. It's pink, just like her hair, and all of the stuffed animals at the other game stations are ugly. _

_"Oi! There you are, Forehead girl!"_

_Her head snaps over her shoulder to see little Ino pushing her way through the plethora of tall bodies, waving a hand and weaving through the crowd as if they were giant wheat stalks. _

_"I've been looking everywhere for you—huh?" Ino huffs when she finally makes it to the booth, stopping just before her. "Why are you crying?"_

_Sakura sniffles and rubs her eye. "I-I just wanted to win a prize, but—but I keep missing. I don't have—have anymore tokens to play." _

_Ino purses her lips and crosses her arms. "Well, I only have one token left." Her sky-blue eyes observe the game tent over Sakura's shoulder, debating. "But . . . " Ino's eyes trail to the prize shelf. "If you wanna win so bad, maybe I can try for you."_

_"You—you—you will?" Sakura manages between sobs, hope lighting her glossy green eyes. _

_Ino places her hands on her skinny hips. "Sure!" She says with a challenging smirk. "You just tell me what prize you want, and I'll win it for you, okay?"_

_Sakura nods, tears still rolling off her chin. Ino flicks her big forehead before cocking her head, eyes crinkling with a bright smile. "Just leave it to me!"_

_Sakura steps aside for Ino to give the man her last token. And with the red ring in hand, Ino shakes the blond strand of hair out of her face and positions herself. A pink tongue sticks to her upper lip as she narrows her sky-blue eyes, angling the ring over her shoulder as if she's about to toss a frisbee. Then, she lets loose—_

_And the red ring wobbles its way down a slender bottle neck. _

_"Wow!" Sakura gasps. _

_Ino dusts her hands together and then crosses her arms with a triumphant smirk. _

_The man claps. "Well done!" He praises, and then sweeps a hand to the prize shelf. "Choose your prize, young lady."_

_Ino turns to Sakura with an encouraging smile. "Pick one!"_

_Sakura bites her lip, pointing to the little pink bear squished between a giant dolphin and a coiling stuffed snake. "That one."_

_"Good choice." The man nods with a smile, and plucks it from the shelf. He gently places the bear in Sakura's outstretched arms. The moment it's in her grasp, she hugs it to her chest. _

_"You're the best, Ino!" She cries, nuzzling it under her nose. _

_"Of course I am!" She says, putting her hands on her hips and shooting Sakura a teasing look. "Although . . . That kind of looks like a gift for lovers. Maybe one day you can give it to a boy you like as a gift—consider it my blessing." She winks. _

_Twin circles of pink paint Sakura's cheeks as she sputters. "I-Ino!"_

_She simply throws her head back and laughs. _

Sakura blinks the memory away until she's back in her cluttered room. Fists curled, Sakura marches across the room and takes the pink bear in her hands, a deep frown curving her lips.

"Stupid Pig." She mumbles. And then she hugs it to her chest.

Her phone chimes, buzzing along the wooden night stand.

Looking over her shoulder, pink eyebrows flick up in surprise when she looks to the right of her phone, where the flower-shaped alarm clock reads 10:26 PM. Who would be texting her this late?

Perhaps . . . _Ino_?

She carefully sets the bear back on the shelf and makes her way to the nightstand, eyebrows furrowed. Her hot pink phone lays face down, so when she brings the bright screen to her face, she nearly drops it when the name **Sasuke Uchiha** reads across her lock screen.

_'New message'_

Heart stuttering, she blinks several times, as if the name will somehow disappear after the sixth flutter of her eyelashes. She sits on the edge of the bed, chest heaving, because she doesn't trust her legs to stand.

She's too afraid to open it. Her thumb hovers, hesitates, until the screen falls asleep and his name is swallowed by blackness. She stares at her vague reflection in the dark screen, sees the flare of her nostrils and the teeth that bites her lip. Tingles zip through her body all the way down to her curling toes.

_Just open it!_

She swallows.

What could he possibly have sent her? And at _this_ hour, no less. What if he tells her he wants to switch partners—or what if it's a long drafted message describing how sorry he is for snapping at her in Biology. (Yeah right.)

Or . . . what if it's about the _note_.

Sakura squeezes her eyes shut, bringing the phone to her heart as if it can hear her plea. _Please don't be about the note. Please don't be about the note. Please—_

She swings her legs up onto the bed and lays back into her mountain of fluffy pillows, holding the phone above her face.

She wakes the phone, unlocks it, and with a deep breath, finally opens the message.

_'Meet me after practice tomorrow.'_

Her eyes widen. Then, with a squeal of absolute delight, she crushes the phone to her chest, cradling and nuzzling it like it's the best thing she's ever held in her life.

Inner-Sakura throws confetti everywhere, prancing and pirouetting around her mind in circles.

She reads it three more times.

_(Yes! Yes! Yes!)_

_Okay_ . . . She takes another deep breath, chest expanding to its limit until she releases all the tension through her lips. _Now_, she just has to come up with a quirky reply. Or _should_ she reply? Her lips purse and she brings a finger to her chin, pondering. Well, there certainly can't be any harm in doing so. After all, he's probably waiting for confirmation. She should ask another question—give him a reason to respond again. She nods in approval.

Thumbs tapping, she writes out her reply.

_'Sounds good. What time should I be there?'_

Perfect. Not too short, not too long. She almost adds a smiley emoji before thinking better of it. It's best she not come off _too_ happy. She presses send. The whooshing sound effect of it being sent takes her heart with it. Sakura stares at the message screen until her eyes burn, just waiting and waiting for the _read_ receipt to appear. After ten minutes, she gives up and plunks the phone onto her night stand. She pulls the blankets to her chin.

Regret begins to wheedle its way into the pit of her stomach with every silent minute that passes. Maybe she shouldn't have replied. Of course she already _knows_ what time practice ends, as she's watched him play hundreds of times before. Sakura's been going to his practices for as long as Sasuke's been playing baseball for KHS. Though, she really hopes he doesn't put two and two together, hopes he doesn't figure out that she already knows what time she should be there and see it for the ploy it really is. But can you blame her? She reaches over and turns off the bedside lamp.

And just as she's dozing off, her phone chimes.

Fingers bolt for the device faster than lighting and she's instantly awake, heart pounding. She squints against the bright screen: **Sasuke Uchiha. **

_'New message.'_

She opens it and tries not to feel too disappointed at the single number that reads back.

_'5'_

Well, it was better than nothing. Smiling to herself, she places the phone back on the table and rolls over, snuggling deep into her cotton duvet. Sleep claims her after fifteen minutes of rolling around.

And she dreams of onyx eyes and baseball fields.

༺º༻

**Please don't forget to review and let me know what you think!**

**See you next time!**

**~ Sloshi**


	5. Chapter 4

**A/N:** Howdy! :D Fun chapter this time, as this is a taste of the 'baseball' portion of this fic. After this, there will be some more drama and then the real baseball stuff will begin. Also, I see many reviews about NaruIno, which is really funny because I wasn't sure which pairings to end with, but if you guys _want_ NaruIno I can totally give it to you. Some of you have already guessed some things correct about the future chaps ;) but I shall reveal NOTHING. In Captain! nothing is what it seems . . . (Rubs hands together like a mischievous fly.)

First sound track of the story, here we go! Some soundtracks will have lyrics, some will not. I'm also going to be posting links & pictures and stuff on my profile when I get around to it.

**SOUNDTRACK**

~"Incredible" by Oh the Larceny - At 0:40, as soon as Sakura sees Sasuke on the pitcher's mound.

**~CAPTAIN!~**

**CHAPTER 4**

༺º༻

She forgets all about the Biology test.

Staring down at the blank answer sheet, she rubs her eyes and tries to remember just what the heck she was even supposed to study. Yeah, she read the stupid textbook. But these questions are worded strangely and she _swears_ Kakashi-sensei does this just to piss her off. She stares at the questions until the ink blurs into black smudges against crisp white. The bubble sheet for answers remains blank.

She rubs her eyes again.

The classroom is silent as death, punctuated only by the rustle of turning pages, the squeak of a chair, and the occasional cough. Kakashi-sensei sits behind his desk, nose buried in that god awful book.

_Come on, Sakura, think! You know this stuff already! Think, think, think—_

The pencil between her fingers tap against the desktop, over and over until the guy next to her finally slaps his palm over hers, pinning her hand to the wood and halting her anxious tic.

"_Sheesh_." She pouts, shooting a glare in his direction. _Someone's_ in a bad mood today. His hand slowly slides away.

Sighing, she brings the end of the pencil between her lips and chews on the pink eraser.

Then, she looks up, green eyes locking onto the reason she can't think straight. And of course, he's bubbling away on his answer sheet like he knows every damn question.

Her attention returns to her own blank sheet. Another sigh.

_It isn't fair._

Fisting her pink locks in frustration, she debates what would be more merciful; gouging out her eyeballs or finishing this test. (Surely, they feel the same.) She releases the tufts of her pink hair, allowing her big forehead to drop onto the desktop with a _thump_. The girl in front of her jerks her head around with an angry finger to her lips.

"_Shh_!"

Sakura bristles. "I—"

"_Shh_!" Another person in the back shushes.

A purple miasma emanates from her whole body like an infernal roaring flame—fists clenching on the tabletop so tight her knuckles groan. So _rude_! Just who the hell did they think they were, _shushing_ her like a _child_—

Her pencil snaps, and several chairs inch carefully away from her.

Opening her fist, the two jagged halves of her pencil roll innocently off her palm and onto the floor. She miserably deflates.

༺º༻

When the bell finally (_finally_) rings, Sakura drags herself to her locker like a sloth, brain-fried and pink hair frazzled as if she's just stuck a metal fork into an electrical socket. Ino had zipped out of the classroom in a blonde blur before Sakura could even think of catching up with her—like she already knows her best friend wants to try and patch things over. But Ino's tenacious pride wins their moral tug-of-war as always, and so Sakura, as patient as any good friend should be, takes ten paces back and gives her best friend the time and space she needs. (She'll come around.)

And _Sasuke_. . . Her mood lightens, heart palpitating at the thought of him—at the thought of his late night text and the reminder that they're going to see each other _tonight_. On top of that, she'll be going to his house; his _house_! _And_, they'll most likely be in his room, alone—just the two of them in heavy, tense silence. Sitting together on his plush bed, the beginnings of their project splayed out in pieces between them . . .

_Dark eyelashes flutter with every secret glance he flicks her way. _

_She pretends not to notice, sweetly tucking a pink strand behind her ear as she sorts through the tiny knick-knacks peppering his velvet navy sheets. A few more secret glances her way, and a shy smile curls her lips. She looks up at him beneath her long lashes—and drops her gaze back to the project between them, blushing. _

_She reaches for a popsicle stick to inspect—but his warm, pale hand collides with hers as they reach for the same object; they both freeze. And then slowly, their eyes trail up and up until they're gazing at one another in silent awe. His throat bobs. Her heart pounds. And she's not sure who moves first, but then they're leaning closer . . . And closer . . . Their overlapped fingers intertwine, his soft lips mere inches from hers_—

Eyes shut, Sakura's puckered kissy-lips are just about to meet the cool, metal surface of her locker—

"So how'd you do?!" A deep voice chirps from an inch behind her.

Sakura jumps out of her skin with a shriek, whirling around and flattening herself against the wall of lockers, chest heaving. Her fantasy shatters into a million heartbreaking pieces. Wide green eyes meet brightly amused cerulean. And several curious heads turn in their direction.

"Jeez, you're so jumpy, Sakura-chan!" Naruto throws his head back with sunny laughter. "Am I really that scary?" He beams.

"Naruto! What—" she looks left to right conspiratorially, as if his presence before her in public breaks some unspoken social law, before dropping her voice to a careful whisper. "_What are you doing here_?"

Guilt twists her gut when hurt flashes across his eyes for the briefest of moments, but it's gone in a blink. A sparkling grin splits his whiskered face as he places his hands behind his head; a casual, easy-going posture that would convey to any on-looker the comfortable measure of their relationship. As if they're _chummy ole' pals_. (Oh, this looks so bad.) She might as well get a spotlight and hang it overhead.

"I just wanted to know how you did on the test!" Loud—his exuberant voice carries through the hallways like a megaphone. Sakura shrinks a little more with every word. "I thought it was super hard—but I bet _you_ got an A, Sakura-chan. You seem like the smart type!"

As flattering as the compliment is, Sakura can't help but bite her lip. Every second she spends in Naruto's company buries her deeper into a hole she's not quite sure she'll be able to climb out of. But the smile that lights his face is so genuine and kind; so at odds with the feral beast-like features that had twisted his face only just the other day, so at odds with the venom that had laced his voice when he threatened an entire classroom into silence for her sake—for _laughing_ at her.

So she swallows her nerves and meets his blazing blue eyes with a tentative—but real—smile of her own. "It—it was difficult." She admits honestly. She averts her gaze. "Um . . . Thank you, by the way."

He blinks. "Huh? For what?"

Around them, those who still linger at their lockers have crept surreptitiously closer, no doubt eavesdropping to the best of their ability without being caught, ears straining to latch onto every word spoken between the catcher of KHS and the Nobody who threw a love letter at Sasuke Uchiha's head. Sakura sucks in a breath, turning to spin the locker dial so he doesn't see the blush coloring her cheeks.

"For yesterday—when I was . . . partnered with Sasuke." She busies herself with stuffing her belongings in the little cubby so that she can go to lunch; if Naruto would just get out of her hair before another reckless rumor ruins her life. "Thank you—for that, I mean. That was . . . " _Terrifying_. She clears her throat. "nice of you."

"Sakura-chan—" his hand comes down onto her shoulder just as she shuts her locker, spinning her around to face the sudden eerie calm on his features. She stiffens; a horrified shudder rolls down her spine when he gently presses her back against the cool metal and leans inwards until his blue eyes align with hers. She can't help but to angle her face away from his uncomfortable proximity.

_Just—just what the hell does he think he's doing!_

She glances down at the firm hand on her shoulder, where it feels as if it weighs ten tons, and every nerve in her body zeros in on his uninvited touch. His blond eyebrows nudge inward, cerulean eyes flicking over her flustered features. He's far too close for comfort, far too close for their situation to appear appropriate, and she becomes hyper-aware of every pair of eyes watching their every move. She swears she hears a camera shutter. "Don't thank me for that—I don't tolerate bullying of any kind, so as long as we're friends, you're safe with me." The seriousness in his face ebbs away with a bright, reassuring smile. "And friends don't let friends get bullied."

_Friends_. He—for some inconceivable, irrational reason—considers her a friend. (They don't even know each other!) Well, sure, she knows _him_. But that's besides the point. Does he not realize what he's doing? Does he not _see_ that he's branding a target onto her back with every interaction they share—searing it between her shoulder-blades where it shines like a beacon in the night?

"Speaking of the bastard," his hand slips off her shoulder (thank the _gods_) and he, blessedly, draws away from her. With him being out of her personal bubble, Sakura can breathe again—she tries not to let the immense relief show on her face. Thankfully, he doesn't seem to notice as he slouches causally, slips a tan hand in his beige pocket, and says: "I hope he didn't give you too hard of a time yesterday. He's a bit of a prick sometimes. So if he gives you shit, you just come to me and I'll put that stupid bastard in his place. No sweat."

The last thing she wants to do is cause more trouble, so she politely declines his gallant offer with a shake of her head. "No, it's fine. He was . . . " she swallows as deadly black eyes swim across the forefront of her mind. "_tolerable_. Although, he made it very clear when I touched his earphones that—"

"His earphones?" Naruto interrupts, eyebrows flicking up. "You touched his headphones?"

"Well, _yeah_—" The look on Naruto's face and the clear incredulity lacing his tone gives her the impression that touching his earphones is a very, _very_ bad thing_. _She sucks in her lips, dread snaking down her spine. _But_ . . . she's curious. "Why? What's the deal with his earphones?"

Uncertainty spreads across his tan, handsome face as his lips tighten. He's hesitating. Like whatever _issue_ lies between Sasuke and his earphones is a secret; something he's not supposed to share. Sakura's curiosity spikes tenfold. "_Well_?" She prompts after a few beats of silence, unable to help herself. It's not really her buisness, she knows, but it seems a little silly. Surely, whatever it is can't be _that_ terrible. Maybe he just doesn't like his things being touched by someone who blatantly writes crude things about him behind his back—

"S-Sakura-san?"

Sakura and Naruto turn to see a meek-faced Hinata, whose pale fingers are clenched into fists against her generous bosom. But standing next to her, with a tall lanky form and a canine smirk, is Kiba Inuzuka—the right-fielder of KHS. His shaggy brunette hair flops into his black slit eyes—he looks far more like a dog than any human she's ever seen—and twin, inverted red triangles mark either side of his cheeks, tattooed onto his chestnut skin like war paint.

"What's up?" Kiba greets Naruto with an upward jerk of his chin. But his sharp grin twitches at the corner when his wolfish gaze falls to Sakura—looks her up and down shamelessly, like he's inspecting a piece of meat at a deli. Sakura shudders. "Who's this?"

"_This_"—without warning, Naruto tugs her to his side, slinging a strong arm over her shoulder and tucking her small frame beneath his arm—"is Sakura-chan. My new friend." He beams widely, as bright and warm as the sun, giving her arm an intimate rub that makes Sakura want to punch him _right in th_e—

Kiba throws his head back and howls in laughter; a surprisingly more attractive sound than she expects from someone who looks like he eats from a doggie bowl. Sakura blinks at the two front canine teeth that are far sharper than her own. "I don't know, Naruto," he says through raspy chuckles. "It looks to me like she's anything but your _friend_. Just look at her face"—he gestures to the deadly sneer that Sakura can't quite manage to wipe from her expression in time—"she looks like she's going to beat the shit out of you."

Naruto sputters, pressing Sakura tighter against his body in defense—she grimaces. "Shut up!" He snaps. "She _is_ my friend—right Sakura-chan?" He turns to look down at her, blue eyes desperately searching her face for reassurance. It's so genuine it almost breaks her heart. But he's still crushing her against his warm body like it's nobody's buisness and she'll be damned if anyone can _touch_ her so casually—so intimately without permission.

(But it's _Naruto Uzumaki_, so it's not like she can just _reject_ him; not without consequences, anyway.)

Besides, she supposes, with great reluctance, that it would be wise to have his alliance—she's already in too deep as it is. Might as well play it to her advantage. And if she plays her cards right, she just might be able to redeem herself in the watching eyes of KHS—in the judging eyes of Sasuke Uchiha.

(Sakura Haruno, _friends_ with the catcher of KHS?)

_Game on. _

"Right." Sakura bites out through a gritted, twitching smile.

"Wait, did you say _Sakura_?" Kiba blinks, giving her another once over as if he's somehow seen her before, but hadn't recognized her at first. "As in, the girl who threw a love letter at Sasuke?"

Sakura stiffens under Naruto's arm, feels the rumble of his chest as he laughs. "Yup, the very one!"

"Oh, man." Kiba says with a smug grin, amusement lighting his slit pupils. "You've got some nerve, sweetheart. You're lucky he hasn't broken those brave arms of yours."

Green eyes widen in pure horror at his casual remark. Fear drops into her stomach like a stone plunked into a pool, each ripple spreading through her body in waves of rising panic. A strong, vice grip flashes in her memory. She swallows, Kiba's voice echoing off the walls of her mind like death knells. _'You're lucky he hasn't broken those brave arms of yours.'_

"It wasn't a love letter." Sakura manages to whisper beneath her quickening breath.

It's then that she finally looks to Hinata, whose pearly eyes are stuck to Naruto's handsome face. Her usual porcelain skin has turned seven shades of red—all the way to the roots of her dark fringe. She's as still as a doe, unblinking, like she's turned to stone in the presence of Naruto Uzumaki. Hinata's full lips part in a failed attempt to speak, and for a terrifying moment, Sakura thinks her pearl eyes are going to roll into the back her head—she's going to collapse, hit the linoleum like a deadweight, until—

"Oh, by the way this is Hinata." Kiba introduces like he's forgotten she was even there, nodding his head towards the fragile girl that barely reaches his broad shoulders in height. "She's my Biology partner."

"Hey, Hinata." Sakura offers her a comforting, knowing smile. _Just hang in there,_ she silently wills to her timid friend. Sakura already knows how Hinata feels about Naruto; the crush she's had on him since freshman year, much like her own infatuation with Sasuke. It makes this situation that much more horrifying, because Naruto's broad hands are still cradling her shoulders. Like they're a _couple_, and not two people from completely different worlds who barely know each other. Sakura chuckles nervously. "Hinata is actually my good friend." She explains, more so to Naruto than Kiba, who looks like he'd much rather be licking his paws elsewhere.

"Really?" Naruto replies excitedly, eyes sparkling with interest as he looks Hinata up and down. He glances to Sakura before settling his full attention on Hinata's trembling frame. "Well, any friend of Sakura's is a friend of mine!"

Naruto steps away from Sakura to reach out and take Hinata's delicate hand with both of his own, grinning wildly. But the moment his hands make contact with hers, Hinata teeters dangerously on the balls of her feet, flickering in and out of consciousness.

_Shit._

"_Hey_—!" Naruto yelps when Hinata begins her descent backwards. He hooks an arm around her waist before she can hit the hard floor, effectively stopping her mid back-bend. He blinks down at her unconscious form—the ends of her long, dark hair brushes the linoleum, bangs flopped out of her flushed face. The two of them look as if they've been frozen mid-tango. "Hinata?"

Kiba has the nerve to laugh, bringing the back of his wrist to his mouth, hiding the canine smirk dancing on his lips.

༺º༻

It's four o' clock when Sakura makes her way to the baseball field behind the school—which is actually less of a field and more of a miniature stadium, if she were being honest. The bleachers rise like giant walls, enclosing the front half and branching out on either side of the playing field. A giant chain-link fence stands behind home plate, shielding the audience from deadly stray balls.

The dark storm cloud that is Karin trails behind her for emotional support.

With arms taut across her chest, lips jutted in a pout, Karin looks every bit the nine year old Suigetsu accuses her of being. Apparently, he will not stop texting her; ever since they exchanged numbers, he's been sending her nonsense just to bait her into replying—fishing for any kind of reaction. Mostly just to piss her off, but with Karin, that's easier to do than Suigetsu probably realizes.

And, unfortunately for him, it's also the _worst_ possible thing to do, considering Karin's temper is almost as scalding as Sakura's own. And because of this, Sakura had to nearly get on her hands and knees to _beg_ Karin to come with her to practice. Tenten and Hinata had already started home after the last bell, mentioning something about buying project supplies and not being able to watch practice today (of all days) leaving Sakura to face Sasuke alone. Ino was nowhere to be seen. She was almost ready to chicken out, when she saw Karin still fumbling in her locker, flustered beyond belief. Flustered, because Suigetsu won't stop sending her pictures of ramen noodles in the shape of: _"Send Noods?"_

So when they make it to the baseball field, aligning themselves along the first baseline, Karin promptly flops onto the bottom row of the metal bleachers, stuffing her hands in her armpits like she's just been told she can't have ice cream until after dinner. Sakura observes her friend with a sigh, shakes her head. Around them, several other girls have already arrived to watch—packing into the bleachers like they're filling a movie theater, some even bringing snacks and drinks. Ami and her two sidekicks are there, too, of course; just as they always are. Hearts flutter in their eyes with longing—all three of them swooning with unabashed, wanton desire.

Sakura follows their dreamy gazes to the baseball field, where the boys are clad in their white uniforms, green under-armor clinging to their bodies and arms like a second skin beneath the loose white tees. Their green baseball caps protect them from the afternoon sun that beats down on them, but she can see the sheen of sweat coating all of their handsome faces.

There's Kiba—far out in the right-field, where he sits in a slight crouch and bounces on the balls of his feet, fist punching against his baseball glove. His green baseball cap is twisted backwards, and tufts of his chocolate brown hair pokes out the front. Gorgeous_,_ spunky, and rebelliously wicked, Kiba Inuzuka could sweep _any_ girl off her feet.

To the left of him, positioned in centerfield, is Lee. His thick, fuzzy eyebrows (which look like fat black caterpillars) are drawn together with intense determination. Lee is the kind of person you wouldn't want to challenge to a race—or challenge, period. He's fast as fuck, and he knows it. One time, during a tournament against Suna High, a fastball went flying out of the park, soaring far off into the distance until it was a mere pinprick against the blue skies. And Lee still caught it before the unfortunate player even made it to first base.

(He's not nick-named the _Green Beast_ for nothing.)

Further over, the left-field stands empty because Suigetsu is up to bat.

In the infield, Hinata's distant cousin—Neji stands at first base, looking as edgy as always, pearl eyes narrowed in concentration. His long brunette locks are pulled back into a low ponytail against the nape of his neck. Some would say Neji is as terrifyingly cold as Sasuke when it comes to personality, but Sakura highly doubts that. She has caught glimpses of half smiles from the Hyuuga, seen his features soften and has even heard him chuckle once.

But _Sasuke_? She's never seen him laugh—or smile, or even look . . . remotely happy.

There's also this popular rumor that Neji and Sasuke actually despise each other—ever since Sasuke transferred to KHS and swiped the baseball captain position right from under the Hyuuga's nose. It was big news at the time; by the vicious glares they shot towards each other, everyone thought they were gonna have it out in the halls, fists and all.

But it never happened, and nobody really knows what took place between the two, whether they sorted out the drama themselves or just . . . let it go. (Yeah, right. Like two of the most arrogant, temperamental guys in all of Japan aren't gonna beat the shit out of each other to assert dominance.) Sakura and Tenten had bet that they met outside of school and dealt with each other there; reached a stalemate or an agreement of sorts to establish peace.

Whatever happened, there doesn't seem to be as much tension between them as there used to be.

To the left of Neji is Shino at second base—a tall, gangly weirdo who Sakura has come to learn has an unhealthy obsession with _bugs_. (_So_ gross. Why couldn't he have just been a Vegan or something, like a normal person?) He's even gone so far as stopped a game just to save a spider that skittered its way onto the field. And then there's these round, black sunglasses that obscure his eyes. Seriously, you can't see anything through them. They're so dark it looks like even light itself can't penetrate them. (Plus, she's never seen him without them. _Ever_.) Karin once pointed out that he looks like one of the three-blind-mice, to which Sakura laughed so hard she choked on her own spit.

Then there's Shikamaru. He crouches on his heels between second and third base as Shortstop, the most analytical position in baseball, appropriate for the most analytical player on the team. The usual spike of his short brunette ponytail is lowered to the back of his head, where it pokes out the back of his baseball cap, and tiny, silver hooped earrings glimmer in his earlobes when they catch the sunlight. He has his own share of fangirls, and Sakura can see why. He's shorter than most of the other players, but his build is lean and strong. And his jawline is so sharp it could cut glass.

Sai stands at third base, one foot poised on the white diamond, his posture as still as a statue. His porcelain skin is nearly blinding in the sunlight; so unnaturally pale that Sakura's debated suggesting he see a doctor. (He _actually_ looks like a walking corpse.) But he's somehow still attractive, with a fine-boned face and inky eyes and hair as black as death. There's not much she really knows about Sai, just that he's pretty socially awkward. And an artist, if rumor serves her correctly.

Naruto sits at home plate, crouched with his glove held in front of his padded chest. A green helmet covers his sunshine hair and the helmet's protective cage hides his whiskered profile. Suigetsu stands off to the side of home plate, knees bent and cleats wiping against the dirt as he holds the bat over his right shoulder, ready to swing at a moments' notice.

And there, in the middle of the dusty field, perched upon the pitchers mound, is _Sasuke_.

In his element, the Uchiha looks so achingly attractive it's near dizzying. The forest green cap sits on his silky raven locks, but several pieces of escaping strands still poke out the back of his hat. The dark bangs that fall into his eyes don't seem to hinder his focus—he merely gives his head a shake and those silky locks fall perfectly into place. The uniform hugs his tall, lean frame like it was personally tailored just for him. The white pants cling to his strong thighs and perfectly toned backside, showcasing years of dedication to fitness and baseball drills and running, running, running.

Sakura's heart thunders beneath her rib cage at the sight. She steps forward, curling her fingers through the chain-link fence, eyes twinkling with awe.

The baseball in his left hand bounces up and down absently, as he waits for Suigetsu to finish his few practice swings. Naruto flashes him a hand sign—silently communicating something to Sasuke that Sakura can't translate. But the baseball captain nods in approval and the ball stops bouncing in his palm. Suigetsu gives the baseball bat a little wobble over his shoulder, crouching slightly, rocking back in forth in anticipation.

And then there's a tense silence as Sasuke prepares his pitch. His onyx eyes harden with calculation, the deep focus carving his face like stone. Concentrated, completely in the zone, Sasuke Uchiha looks like a god. So effortlessly _cool_. There's a collective dreamy sigh from the girls behind her, but Sakura doesn't hear them over the pounding in her ears. The rush of her blood, the fire simmering in her lower stomach like it's splayed over an open flame, the tremble in her knees—Sasuke devours her sanity without even trying.

He holds the baseball in his glove, and then recoils. He brings the ball and glove to his chest before winding his left hand back, lifting a bent leg in anticipation to propel his body forward—and then he fires away. In one graceful, powerful flick of motion, the baseball zips through the air so fast it's a streaking white blur.

It flies right past Suigetsu's twisting form and smacks Naruto's glove.

Sakura blinks._ Incredible! _Considering he's the fastest pitcher in KHS's history, she shouldn't be surprised. But she is, _every single time_.

"Strike one!" Naruto barks and stands to toss the ball back to Sasuke before crouching back into position.

"Come on, dude." Suigetsu grouches, swiping his cleats in the dirt and readjusting his position. "That was way too low."

Sasuke says nothing, and there's no hint in his blank expression that suggests he cares. Naruto flashes him another hand sign and he nods. After another moment of silence, of focus, Sasuke recoils once more and then the baseball shoots past Suigetsu's swinging bat—Naruto has to jump up to catch it this time.

"And _that_," Suigetsu spits. "Was too high, asshole."

"Strike two!" Naruto chirps, tossing back the ball.

"The pitch is fine, you're just incompetent." Sai says casually from third base.

Suigetsu drops the bat to his side and whirls on his heel. "What did you just say to me?"

Sai has the nerve to smile—an eerie, mechanical curve of his lips that doesn't even look human. "I _said_: you're incompetent—"

The ball hits Naruto's glove.

"Strike three!"

"_Dude_!" Suigetsu turns to Sasuke, face twisting in betrayal. "What the fuck was that?"

"Pay attention." Sasuke says flatly, baseball bouncing nonchalantly in his left palm.

A few of the girls giggle, including Karin. The red-head lets out a sharp, deprecating laugh like a raven's caw, delighting in his humiliation. Suigetsu's strange, sharp teeth mash together like two interlinked rows of razors—like a _shark_. His pale face flushes with anger and embarrassment, and when his deep violet eyes narrow into lethal slits, Sakura shudders. His expression darkens with surprising malice; a friendly face turned deadly. If looks could kill, Sasuke would surely be six feet under.

Suigetsu angles the bat over his shoulder, strong fingers gripping the handle so tight his knuckles bleach. "Fuck you, Uchiha."

"_Hn_." The baseball captain hums with a devilish, smug smirk that lifts one corner of his lips. The rare sight makes Sakura's heart stutter. Her breath catches in her throat as he recoils a final time, deciding to give Suigetsu another chance. He brings the ball and glove to his chest, winds back, and then thrusts his strong arm forward, sending the baseball hurtling through the air at frightening velocity.

"You got this, Suigetsu." Sakura whispers under her breath, curling her fingers tighter around the chain link fence.

Suigetsu's muscular body twists and the bat cleaves through the air—

_Clank!_

The ball meets metal and the sound echoes like a thunderclap throughout the whole field. He throws the bat off to the side where it hits the dirt, and Suigetsu takes off toward first base—but the ball . . .

The ball flies up and over the chain link fence. A round shadow grows in the middle of Ami's forehead with each passing second as it hurtles right towards her_—so fast, she's not gonna get out of the way in time_—Ami's hazel eyes flick up, widening.

"Heads up!" Someone shouts.

_Oh shit—!_

And then it happens.

Like lighting, like the snap of a finger, in the blink of an eye—Sakura moves.

On instinct, as if it's second nature, as if the reflex is embedded into her very bones, she leaps up the bleachers, taking two steps at a time on foreign agile feet, stepping between the girls scrambling to part and jump out of her way, drinks and snacks flying everywhere—and then the world slides into slow motion as she _dives_, arms outstretched, reaching for the baseball that's rotating _slowly_, _slowly_, _slowly_ . . .

Every face around her gapes in horror, frozen in a silent scream. Ami's eyes are moon-sized saucers, life flashing before her very eyes. Sakura's shadow envelopes Ami's scrawny frame as her body soars through the air like a shooting star, shielding and protecting this girl who is not her friend; this girl who _hates_ her and has bullied her since they could walk. Still, the wind whips her pink strands across the desperation on her face as Sakura reaches for the ball—

It smacks into her tiny, bare hand and the dwindling momentum of her jump thrusts her downwards where she crashes onto the metal bleachers, shoulders first—Sakura's ribcage rattles with the impact, teeth clattering inside her mouth. She cradles the ball to her chest, protecting it like a small child, as her head hits the bleachers with a sickening _thud_. (That's gonna leave a bruise in the morning.)

_O-Ouch_ . . .

"_Sakura-chan_!" She hears Naruto bellow, stone-cold terror ripping through his throat like she's just taken a gunshot to the chest. (Ever so dramatic.)

"Sakura! Oh my god!" Karin screams.

Naruto rips the helmet from his head, yanks the glove off his hand and throws his gear to the side, leaping over the side fence and clamoring up the bleachers. He's at her side in seconds. Every joint, muscle, and bone in her body screams in agony. A curtain of pink hair obscures the pain twisting her expression as she struggles to sit up, the baseball firm in her grip.

Sakura's heart still thunders inside her body, adrenaline pumping through her veins, chest heaving. Naruto's strong hands land on either shoulder—she winces—as he crouches to her level, ten pairs of concerned blue eyes just inches from hers. She's not sure which one to look at before all ten of them click into place and she's able to see straight again.

"Are you _okay_?" He breathes, scanning her face for injury, eyes flickering over every centimeter of her skin. Over his shoulder, Sakura sees everyone gathered around, blinking from above and below at her with unflinching awe. The baseball team has gathered at the bottom of the bleachers, peering up at her, faces awash with amazement. Even Sasuke's perfect brows have risen incrementally, onyx eyes gleaming with genuine surprise.

Sakura somehow manages a smile. "I'm okay." She holds up the ball with trembling fingers for everyone to see, laughing nervously. "Got it."

Naruto's mouth slackens. "Sakura-chan, that . . . " And then his blue eyes sparkle like ocean waves under the sun, glittering with pure admiration. "Was fucking _awesome_!"

"Way to go, Sakura!" Someone hoots from below—Kiba grins like a wild coyote, flashing his sharp canines.

"That was the most youthful catch I've ever seen!" Lee cries. Rivers of majestic tears stream down his round face as he pumps a triumphant fist in the air. Stars glisten in his eyes. "You are an amazing catcher, Sakura-san! It is truly an honor to be in your youthful presence!"

"That was . . . impressive." Neji observes quietly.

"Agreed." Suigetsu nods with a sharp, approving smirk. "That's some speed you got there, Pinky. Whoever you are, you got guts."

Sasuke says nothing. The surprise in his face has already vanished, replaced by his typical indifference.

"_Move_!" Karin elbows Naruto to the side like a rag doll—he tumbles down the bleacher steps where he face-plants in the dirt, heels over head, eyes swirling. Ignoring the scandalized gasps all around her and the jaws that hit the floor at the fact that she's just elbowed _Naruto Uzumaki_ in the face, Karin takes his place as she kneels in front of her friend. "Sakura, are you alright? Just what the _hell_ were you thinking?"

Sakura blinks. And then she looks to Ami, who's still shivering like a chihuahua. Her two sidekicks place a hand on either shoulder for support, as if their purple-haired leader will collapse any second.

"Uh . . . It was— " Sakura bites her lower lip. Then, she flashes an unsure smile, shrugging a bruised shoulder and rubbing the back of her head sheepishly. "An accident?"

"If that was an _accident_, I'd love to see what you can do on purpose." Suigetsu purrs from below, quirking a silver brow and shooting her a suggestive smirk.

Karin stabs an accusing finger down at him, adjusting the spectacles that have slid down her nose with her other hand. "_You_ shut the hell up!" She snaps. "This is _your _fucking fault, anyway!"

Sakura cringes fiercely. If Karin keeps on like this, there's no _way_ they're going to leave this baseball field in one piece. She's going to get them both murdered. Whether by the fangirls or the baseball team themselves—they're _so_ dead. She chances a peek at Suigetsu's reaction, only for pink eyebrows to flick up in surprise at the absolute _delight_ on his face.

"Meee-_yow_!" Suigetsu laughs, pawing at the air playfully. "Kitty's got claws!" He has the audacity to wink. "Don't worry, sweetheart, I still think you're _purr_fect."

Suigetsu and Kiba bump fists, twin smirks playing on their faces.

"_W-Why you little_—!" Karin sputters, rolling up her uniform sleeves and rising from her crouch to most definitely kick his ass, but Sakura places a placating hand on her shoulder and nudges her back down.

"_Karin_." Sakura says gently, a deceivingly calm warning. She feels rather than sees the numerous glares burning holes through them.

"Hey, you can't talk to him like that!" A girl shrieks.

Karin whips her head around in the general direction from which the voice came, fire spewing from her mouth as she snarls: "I'll talk to _whoever_ I want, _however_ I want. _Got it_?"

_Yup, we're so dead._

Her bravery might be admirable in another context, but right now they might as well strap raw meat to their bodies and throw themselves in the lions' den.

"Well since the show's over, can we get back to practice? I'd like to get home soon." Shikamaru drawls lazily, hands stuffed in the pockets of his uniform. "This evening is quickly becoming far too troublesome."

Naruto finally sits up, rubbing the lump on his head, smoothing his rumpled hair with a wince. He blinks several times, looking around as if he's not sure where he is (or who he is), before his gaze stops on Sakura.

"Oh, hey Sakura-chan! When did you get here?"

There's a pause.

And then a giant collective sigh.

༺º༻

**Please don't forget to review and let me know what you think :D**

**Till next time**

**~Sloshi**


	6. Chapter 5

**A/N: **Welcome back! All I have to say here is . . . just have some patience with these characters the next few chapters, especially _Sasuke_. Also, I should add there will be **no** Narusaku, or reverse harem. This is strictly Sasusaku, anything else is either one-sided or just a plot device. I'm still deciding on the other couples, so I guess we'll just have to see ;D Sorry for lack of sasusaku moments in the beginning, but I assure you they will come. This story is sitting at around 70k words in my drafts right now, and it's really only _just_ getting started. I haven't posted everything because I really take in feedback, just in case I might need to change some future details!

**Thanks to Audrey and Alice!**

And . . ._ let the show go on!_ (Aims camera and signals sound crew)

**~CAPTAIN!~**

**CHAPTER 5**

༺º༻

The rest of practice flies by in a blur, resuming without hitch, bringing Sakura ever closer to alone time with the baseball captain.

As Sai steps up to bat, Sakura still isn't able to comprehend what happened nearly an hour ago. It plays in her head over and over, like a looping movie reel, perplexing her further each time she thinks about it. Sakura has never played baseball (or any sport, for that matter) a day in her entire life. She's not athletic or nimble or even remotely good at anything that involves _skill_. Even if she's the fastest girl in school, it just doesn't add up. And yet—

_On instinct, as if it's second nature, as if the reflex is embedded into her very bones, she leaps up the bleachers, taking two steps at a time on foreign agile feet, stepping between the girls scrambling to part and jump out of her way, drinks and snacks flying everywhere . . . _

"How did you do it?"

Sakura turns to Karin who sits next to her on the bleacher, examining her perfect scarlet nails. After a beat of silence, the red-head looks up expectantly. Sakura furrows her brow in thought, and then looks out to the field as if it somehow holds the answer, kicking her feet back and forth absently. "I don't know." She says honestly. "My body just . . . moved on its own."

Karin gives her a dry look. "Yeah, well. I saw the ball, too, but _I_ didn't magically turn into Catwoman-gone-professional catcher. You seriously scaled these bleachers like a ninja, Sakura. There's literally no way that was pure instinct. _Instinct_, for example, would be to scream and cover your head like a normal person, not—not fly through the air like some wack superhero. And for _Ami_? Please." She scoffs. "I would save a burning pile of trash before I ever saved _that_ bitch."

Sakura frowns.

_Clank!_

Sai makes a solid hit and books it to first base—the baseball flies into the air, flattening into a silhouette against the darkening sky. Lee races down centerfield, leaping into the air with incredible height; but the ball is just shy of his glove and it soars over his head. Sai rounds to second base, pumping his legs like a track champion, swift as the wind. Lee plucks the ball from the grass and quickly launches it through the air, where Shikamaru pops up and snatches it. Sai stops on third base just as Shikamaru runs to tap him out.

"_Safe_!" Naruto declares, crossing his arms in an '_X_' before sweeping them straight out to his sides.

Sasuke turns to throw an intimidating glare over his shoulder at Lee. "That could have cost us a real game. Catch the ball next time."

"Yes, Captain!" Lee salutes with valiant honor, a true soldier. "I will run fifty—no, one _hundred_ laps around the field as punishment! I promise I won't fail you next time! The power of youth is unpredictable!"

"Whatever." Sasuke replies with a subtle, exasperated shake of his head. Shikamaru throws him the ball. "Just don't screw it for the rest of us."

"_Hey_! What the hell's your problem? Why don't you pull the stick out of your ass, bastard!" Naruto growls. "Like _you_ never make mistakes. Lee always makes great plays. You're just a spoiled prick who can't handle—"

A fastball zips through the air and Naruto barely catches it by a hair's breadth before it can smash into the cage of his helmet.

"That's it." Kiba calls, slipping off his glove and slapping it onto the grass. "I'm goin' home."

The other baseball players exchange wary glances before slowly turning to their captain.

"_What_." Sasuke snaps, ripping off his own glove and removing his green baseball cap. Tucking the two items beneath his arm, he runs his other hand through his tangled, silky locks. A stressed palm brushes the bangs out of his handsome, sweaty face, ruffling his black hair until it reforms into its natural style: messy, stylish spikes poke out in every direction, defying gravity.

Sakura nearly faints at the sight.

But Naruto stands and removes his helmet. "That was fucked up, Sasuke. Even for you."

Ignoring him, Sasuke follows Kiba into the dugout, where he stuffs his belongings into a duffel bag and straps it over his shoulders. He changes out of his cleats, and doesn't so much as glance at any of his friends when he storms off the field, striding briskly back toward the school building, hands shoved in his uniform pockets.

"Hey, uh, Sakura?" Karin says slowly.

"Hm?"

"Aren't you supposed to be going with him?"

"Huh?" Sakura blinks, and then startles when she realizes that Sasuke has indeed left without her—she leaps off the bleachers and takes off in hot pursuit.

Karin shakes her head.

"Sasuke-kun!" She calls after his retreating back, waving a hand desperately at the '**UCHIHA**' and number '**17**' bold and mocking against the crisp white of his uniform. She pumps her legs as fast as they can take her. "Wait for _meeeee_!"

༺º༻

"_Geez_." Sakura huffs when she finally catches up to him, having to maintain a light jog just to keep up at his side. Her long pink hair is windblown, and a light sheen of sweat clings to her forehead. Even though the scorching sun has sunk on the horizon, painted in rich amber and red, the lingering heat sticks to their bodies—wrapping around them like a stifling blanket. She can _taste_ the humidity on her tongue. "Why didn't you wait for me?" She manages in between pants. Just because she has speed doesn't mean she has the _stamina_ to fuel it.

Sasuke doesn't answer. He stalks swiftly forward like a man on a mission, obviously keen on pretending she doesn't exist. Onyx eyes perfectly lock straight ahead, never once moving in her direction.

"Sasuke-kun?" She tries again gently, nerves prickling through the pit of her stomach when she recognizes the heavy displeasure tensing his shoulders—recognizes that he's in absolutely _no mood _to deal with anyone, least of all her. The silent rage pours off him in waves, like the distant rumble of a volcano before an explosion of molten lava and ash. She bites her lip, uncertain green eyes dropping to the lush grass in front of them as they make their way across campus.

"Where—where are we going?" She dares to ask after an unbearable beat of silence, anxiety buzzing inside her body like a box full of bees. Sakura side glances at his terrifyingly stone-faced expression. He's so _scary_ when he's angry. When his left brow twitches, Sakura knows he's doing it again; attempting to control that wildfire underneath, fighting to suppress an eternal storm like a blanket thrown over a raging bonfire.

Even if his anger doesn't necessarily show on his face, she can _feel_ it—his wrath is a tangible layer of mist curling over his shoulders. She doesn't know what to do, doesn't know how to approach him. And so she does the first thing Mom would do if _she_ tried to stomp away from her problems.

"Sasuke-kun . . . what's wrong—" She wraps her fingers around his wrist to stop him—

(Bad move.)

He spins on his heel, yanks his wrist out of her hand and gets in her face like the terrifying baseball captain he is. "You're really starting to _piss me off._" He hisses through clenched teeth, the tip of his nose merely inches from her own.

Sakura startles under his sudden proximity and deep, hurtful remark. But when she holds his simmering gaze, emerald burning into onyx, she goes still as stone. His beautiful, angry features twist in the dying orange sunlight. Long shadows splay across the sharp planes of his expression, accentuating every dip and curve of his hauntingly refined face.

Her heart threatens to burst from her chest, palpitating faster than a hummingbird's beating wings. And he stares back—evenly, confidently, like he doesn't give a single fuck that Sakura's knees are two seconds away from buckling beneath her. His nostrils slightly flare, a testament to the hurricane swirling behind those obsidian eyes. He's so close she can individually count his long eyelashes.

A rare gust of breeze blows pink and black hair around them, and for a long, suspenseful moment, neither of them move. Their eyes remain locked in a silent battle of wills.

And then she blinks back tears—doesn't want him to see the way his words splinter her heart in two, because she isn't trying to make him _angry_. She just wants to understand why he's so upset, why he's as easy as a ticking time bomb to set off. And _sure_, so he read a stupid, raunchy note that she may or may not have meant. She can understand where he's coming from in terms of his blatant distaste for her—

But surely that's no reason to utterly hate her _this_ much . . .

_Right_?

It was just a stupid note—lewd, but meaningless. And it wasn't like she said anything _mean_ about him. Hell, if he had been anyone else, she's sure he would have been shamelessly smitten with her little 'confession'.

So just what is his _problem_? The way he's treating her isn't fair; she doesn't deserve the animosity he carelessly throws in her face. They don't even _know_ each other.

_He hasn't even given me a chance!_

So with a surge of newfound courage, she takes a few steps back, glaring up at him with fire in her eyes and a righteous up-tilt of her chin, fists perched on either side of her hips, opening her mouth to defend her dignity when—

"Go home." He shoves his hands into his pockets and _turns away_.

She gapes at his broad back, takes a few shuffling steps forward, mouth floundering as she races to say something—_anything_ to keep him from walking away from her when she's only just trying to _understand_.

But by the time she's decided on calling out his name, his retreating back disappears around the side of the school's ancient brick walls. And something breaks inside her chest.

(So much for _that_.)

Her pink head drops forward in prickling despair and a curtain of hair spills over her shoulders.

_Ino's right. _Sakura sniffles, clenching the front of her skirt with small fists. Sasuke really _does_ hate her. How can she fix this? And more importantly, what are they going to do about their stupid project _now_? Tears prickle her eyes, threatening to fall—

"Sakura-chan!"

Her head snaps up.

Over her shoulder, Naruto sprints her way at breakneck speed, waving an enthusiastic arm, a bright white smile splitting his tan face. And when he finally catches up to her, he swings a strong, sweaty arm over her shoulders and squishes her to his side. The masculine scent of sweat and earthy, uprooted grass overwhelms her nostrils. Sakura squawks in protest, the terrifying brute strength effortlessly crushing her already bruised shoulder—and probably without his notice.

"N-Naruto—!"

"Oh, sorry!" He releases her and jumps back sheepishly. "I didn't hurt you did I?"

"No." She lies, giving her bruised shoulder a rub. "But that fall earlier really left a mark. I don't think I'm going to be able to move tomorrow."

"Sakura-chan, that catch really _was_ amazing." He praises, adoration dancing in his blazing blue eyes. "Seriously, you were so cool! I've never seen a catch like that before! And you moved so fast!" He laughs with a vulpine grin. "Even the bastard was impressed, I bet he was so jealous you stole the spotlight!"

At the mention of her stubbornly cold partner, the dark storm clouds return, rolling over her head in dark wisps of disappointment and she sulks. "Yeah." She whispers softly.

"Huh?" Naruto blinks his big, inquisitive eyes. "What's wrong?"

Inhaling deeply, Sakura sighs. Then, she looks out over the grassy field, past a _certain_ cherry tree, to the towering walls of KHS in the distance, where the Uchiha has long since disappeared. "Nothing."

He follows her gaze, and frowns. "Don't tell me—"

"It's fine, Naruto." She reassures firmly, turning to meet the growing scowl on his face. He considers her for a moment, no doubt trying to read between the lines. So she flashes him a smile that, despite the honesty of her next words, doesn't quite reach her eyes. "Thanks for being such a good friend."

The absolute happiness that floods Naruto's face is so worth it.

"That's what I'm here for, Sakura-chan! Believe it!" He shoots her a thumbs up.

And the wide smile that sparkles against his complexion, lighting every inch of his features, is almost enough to make Sakura forget about the Uchiha's unjust burning hatred towards her. Almost enough to make her forget about the disaster that has been her life for the past three days.

_(Almost_.)

"Hey, you know what? Let me give you a ride home! I have to pick up my partner, anyway. That blonde chick, Uno, or whatever her name is—we have to get supplies for that stupid Biology project." He scratches the nape of his neck sheepishly. "I keep forgetting to give her my number, but I told her in class I'd pick her up at the library downtown. D'you wanna come with?"

(But not quite.)

Sakura clears her throat. "That's—I think you mean _Ino_—"

"Yeah, that's what I said!" He casually throws his hands behind his head and begins walking towards the school. "Come on," he jerks his chin over a dirt-smudged shoulder, "It'll be fun!"

It takes a few moments for her feet to follow as she hesitates, as she considers the sticky, sweltering heat and imagines walking home in her sweaty KHS uniform.

She makes her decision, and when she finally moves, walking alongside him, she admits quietly: "Thanks, Naruto, but do you think you could just drop me off at home? I'm super tired. I can buy my supplies and stuff tomorrow on my own."

He shoots her a side glance. "You sure? I can always take you home after—"

"I'm sure." Ino's icy blue glare flashes across her mind and she shivers despite the heat.

"If you say so." He says, not sounding entirely convinced. "Where do you live?"

"Just a few blocks from here, actually. I usually walk. I live on Panko lane—"

"Oh, cool! I know exactly where that is! Don't worry, Sakura-chan, I'll get you home nice and safe, okay?"

She takes this moment to really look at Naruto; the catcher of KHS, second only to the most popular guy in school, a complete airhead and total sweetheart.

She also thinks, in this moment, that perhaps Naruto Uzumaki is really her friend after all.

"Okay." She smiles.

༺º༻

An obnoxiously orange Mustang awaits them like a sore thumb in the near-empty parking lot.

It's sleek and bright, just like its driver, and its windows are so heavily tinted they are practically opaque. The headlights blink and the car chirps when Naruto clicks his key fob to unlock the doors.

But before Sakura can reach it, Naruto scurries to the passenger door and chivalrously holds it open for her.

"After you." He says, gesturing a sweeping hand inside.

"Thank you." An involuntary blush paints her cheeks as she slips inside, ducking beneath the low frame before he shuts the door after her. The sharp scent of leather and pine washes over her, and she takes in the dark spacious interior as Naruto jumps in the driver seat and buckles his seatbelt.

"Like it?" He asks, starting the car with a smug curve on his lips as he watches her look around with silent awe. She herself doesn't have a car, and her father's dingy ride has long been shipped over seas so that he isn't without transportation—wherever he is. She doesn't remember the last time she's been in a nice, decent vehicle. After walking, taking the subway, and riding her bike for years, it's a lovely change.

(It's far cleaner than she expects for some reason; she's genuinely impressed by its near perfect condition.)

"Its really spacey." She muses, wiggling her sock-covered knees beneath the dashboard to prove it. And then something catches her eye when it flashes in the sunlight—a chain hanging from the rear-view mirror. A necklace, or pendant of some sort; a red circle with a black spiral in the center. She nods at it. "What's that?"

"This"—he taps the circular pendant with two fingers and it swings back and forth—"is my family's crest. The Uzumaki." He pulls out of the parking lot and into the empty streets. "It's actually an heirloom that's been passed down my family for generations." He chuckles, eyes fixed on the road. "Or at least that's what my Uncle Jiraiya tells me, anyway. It was my mom's." He glances at her from the side. "Pretty cool, huh?"

Sakura stiffens.

_Was_—Past tense.

She blinks, taking the pendent between her fingers—smooth, and cool to the touch. The setting sun seeps in through the windshield, catching the bright crimson paint as she runs a thumb over the polished swirl. "It's really pretty." She lets it slip from her fingers, where it swings like a pendulum beneath the mirror. "And it's in amazing shape for an heirloom—it looks brand new."

"Yeah," He gives a lighthearted shrug. "I guess my mom knew how to take care of things."

"I see." She says slowly, eyebrows furrowing as she studies the side of his whiskered profile. He flicks his blinker on and turns down another street. "Hey, um, Naruto?"

He glances at her in question. "What's up?"

"I was wondering . . . " _About Sasuke. About your bizarre friendship with him everyone talks about. About that day you threatened to kick his ass for me. _She swallows. "Are you and Sasuke-kun . . . close?"

She watches his facial features closely, watches his azure eyes harden with profound sincerity as they focus beyond the windshield. "He's my best friend." And it's said with so much deep conviction that Sakura's pink eyebrows raise.

"Really?" She can't hold back the incredulity her tone. She rambles on quickly. "I mean, everyone says that, of course, since you guys are always together outside of school and all, but that day in the hallway, when he—"

"_Sasuke_"—He interjects, jaw clenching ever so slightly, hands tightening around the steering wheel—"is my best friend, but he's . . . hard to understand sometimes."

Sakura immediately perks up, clinging to every word, desperate to know more about this boy who has held her heart for four, painfully long years.

"He isn't like most people." He continues as they roll up to a red light. He turns to look at her then, the rich golden sunlight splashing his handsome features and suddenly aging him several years older. "He's different."

"What do you mean?" She can't help but ask—to dig deeper, to learn as much about the real Sasuke Uchiha as she possibly can, in hopes of maybe befriending him one day. No matter the impossible odds or the bitter fact that it might only be a pathetic pipe dream at this point. She doesn't care. She wants to know more. "What do you mean by different?"

The light turns green and they roll forward. "It's—it's hard to explain." He says vaguely. "He might seem like a huge dick and all, but . . . I swear he's actually a really great guy when he's not busy being a douche." A nostalgic grin lifts his lips then, like he's recalling a distant memory, a specific time in which Sasuke Uchiha might have been the great guy Naruto says he is. "Believe it or not, he even smiles sometimes, too. Well, when I say sometimes, I really mean like once a year, but still—"

Sakura wishes in that moment that she could see into his mind—wishes she could see a kind, smiling Sasuke in Naruto's memory; not a smirk or a lopsided tilt of his lips, but a real, genuine smile. Her heart sinks when somehow, she knows deep down, that she will most likely never see the phenomenon for herself. Ruined her chances at ever seeing it directed at _her_, as unlikely as it may be.

"I wish—" she blurts suddenly, "I wish he didn't hate me so much."

Naruto has the nerve to laugh. "Sasuke hates a lot of things, Sakura-chan."

"Except his _earphones,_ apparently." Sakura grouches quietly, crossing her arms at the memory and glaring out the window at the passing scenery. And so she doesn't see the discreet, wary glance he casts toward her. Doesn't see the hesitation brewing in his eyes.

"Those earphones," He says quietly after a while, eyes fixed on the road, "were . . . a gift from someone important."

Her heart stops.

Sakura whips her head to look at him, eyes wide. "Someone _important_?"

_Like—Like a girlfriend?!_ Inner Sakura screeches, immediately jumping to the absolute worst possible conclusion.

"Oh, here we are!" Naruto chirps, and Sakura jerks her head to look out the window, where they indeed pull onto Panko Lane. "Which one's you?"

Sakura sputters, attempting to collect herself. "Um—t-that one." She points to the cozy middle-class suburban home tucked between two large traditional houses that make Sakura's own abode look like a shanty hovel. And then she turns, opening her mouth to ask him who this _important_ person is in Sasuke's life—wants to know who is so lucky to even be referred to as such—but she stops.

It isn't her business.

_But I wanna know so bad!_

It isn't her business, so when Naruto pulls to the side of the street, gives her a warm-hearted goodbye as she hops out of the car and waves her off, she thanks him for the ride and says nothing more.

༺º༻

The low, incessant buzzing of his cellphone in his duffel bag on the passenger seat has him scowling darkly at the road before him.

He knows who it is without having to look, because after the sixth cycle of vibration in succession, there's no possible way it could be anyone _but_ the idiot. With his mood already foul, bordering on deadly, the buzz of the seventh round of his cellphone has him wrenching his hand from the steering wheel to rummage through the duffel bag in agitation, hard eyes never leaving the road.

"_What_?" He snaps when the smooth screen presses against his ear.

"_What the fuck is your problem_?!" Naruto's voice rips through the speaker and Sasuke winces ever so slightly when it nearly deafens him. He holds the phone three inches from his ear as he whips the steering wheel with his free hand to turn down another street. "_First, you catch an attitude and give Lee shit for no reason, _THEN_ you throw a fucking ball at my face, and then you just storm off without even saying goodbye like a prick!_" Naruto's wrath crackles through the device like fire, and although his next words are spoken with utter disgust, Sasuke knows the idiot well enough to hear the genuine concern beneath them. "_What the fuck is with you lately_?"

Sasuke merely blinks, eyes darting between his rear view mirror and the side mirror before looking over his shoulder as the road merges into a single lane. "What do you _want_, loser? I'm driving."

"_I _want_ you to stop being such an asshole all the time! And you know who I just dropped off? _Sakura-chan_. And if you make her feel like shit again—_"

His hand clenches impatiently around the steering wheel. "_Enough,_" He seethes through ground teeth. "With the fucking girl. You don't even know her—"

"_Neither do you_!" Naruto snaps accusingly. "_But you don't need to _know_ somebody in order to be kind to them! She's so cute and nice, why do you have to be so mean to her?_ _What has she ever done to you?!_"

A certain note flashes in his mind; bubbly charcoal forming scandalous words. And then the memory of an audacious hand snatching an earphone from his ear and gentle fingers curling around his wrist has his eyebrow twitching in irritation. He remains silent.

And then Naruto's voice drops tenfold in pitch, almost wary—uncharacteristically uncertain in his sudden hesitation. "_Is this . . . about the love letter?_"

Sasuke inhales deeply, resisting the urge to claw his only free hand down his face at his best friend's idiocy. "It wasn't a love letter, _you idiot_."

He swears he can hear Naruto blink in confusion before he belts out: "_Huh_?!"

"Don't call again."

Sasuke promptly hangs up just as he pulls into his drive, parking neatly in the garage. He slams the car door on the way out.

༺º༻

**A/N:** Sorry for shorter chapter, I couldn't find a good place to end it . . . (hides)

**Please don't forget to review and let me know what you think!**

**Till next time**

**~Sloshi**


	7. Chapter 6

**A/N:** Since this chapter is a bit shorter as well, I figured I'd update this a little earlier. I've been making sure now to keep track of my word count, most chapters should end up being 6k+, but hopefully this chapter and next will make up for it :D (Also again, patience with Sasuke)

**Thanks to Audrey and Alice!**

**~CAPTAIN!~**

**CHAPTER 6**

༺º༻

Sakura stares at her ceiling.

After dressing in her usual satin night-slip, she burrows under the thick duvet of her bed like a cocoon and pulls it to her chin, thinking. And thinking.

And _thinking_.

_'__He isn't like most people.'_

Of _course_ he isn't like most people, he's Sasuke Uchiha! _Most_ people aren't illegally attractive and devilishly incredible at everything they do.

_'__Those earphones were . . . a gift from someone important.'_

Someone important. Like _who_? Perhaps it may not have been as big of a deal, had Sasuke _not_ tried to rip her arm off just for touching them. A reaction like that is nothing short of peculiar indeed. She's never heard of him having a girlfriend of any sort; not a hookup, not a fling, and certainly never a date—

_But. _What if . . . It's a girl from his old school?

From SHS; one of the most prodigious academies in Japan, infamous for their diabolically strict curriculum and known mostly for their cruel sportsmanship. _What if_, perhaps, he had to move away from someone he loved, and _that's_ why he's so bitter about everything. Maybe he didn't even _want_ to come to Konoha.

An old flame. An _ex_.

_Gods, no. That's even worse! _Sakura covers her face in her palms, dreading the very idea. She tortures herself with images of pretty girls with long, silky flowing hair and perfect makeup and curving hips—curling under his arm like a smug little kitten.

_On top of that_, her note most likely made everything ten times worse! A girl offering up her body to a man whose heart has already been taken . . .

Sakura rolls over and screams into her pillow.

_Why did this have to happen to _me_?!_

And _then_ there's the matter of Sasuke himself.

She drags her face across the pillow, turning her head, biting her lip as she observes the hot pink phone laying face down on her nightstand. They never ended up getting supplies together, never ended up working together at all. She never got to go to his house, never got to spend time with him like she had fantasized about over and over just the night before. Nothing.

_"__Go home."_

She inhales deeply, rolling her tongue on the inside of her cheek as she decides what to do next. Maybe she should apologize. After all, she _did_ invade his personal space by grabbing at his wrist. Clearly, physical contact of any kind really sets him off. Which is pretty disappointing considering just how long she's yearned to touch him—to wrap her arms around his narrow hips and nuzzle her face in his broad chest, to wrap her fingers around his own, to lovingly kiss him—

She reaches for her phone and rolls onto her back.

In her contacts, his name mocks her; stares back at her like an insult. Taunting her with the concept that he's so close, yet so far. So distantly out of her reach, and yet only a single tap away. Her teeth sink into her bottom lip with confliction—while it's already nine o' clock, and even though she knows he's probably not sleeping, she's not sure shooting him a text is very wise. _Especially_ after their last interaction.

_"__You're really starting to _piss me off_." _Sasuke's distant venomous voice snakes down her spine.

Her lips purse.

And then, before she can help herself, she drafts a text.

_'__I'm really sorry about today.'_

There. That's it. Nothing fancy or over the top, no underlying, ulterior motive. Just a real, genuine apology—because she really _is_ sorry. About everything. And although she yearns to tell him so, she keeps it simple.

So when her thumb taps send, and the wooshing effect seals her fate, Sakura plops the phone back onto her nightstand, flicks off the table lamp, and curls up under the covers as if it can protect her pounding heart from the Uchiha's judgement when he inevitably reads her message. She doesn't know what he'll make of it, but she desperately hopes it doesn't backfire. After all, she's come to discover that Sasuke is unpredictable. A brewing storm constantly changing direction, never knowing what kind of destruction will be left in his wake—

Sakura jumps when her phone chimes. And, as she pounces for it, her heart slams against her rib cage, anticipation rolling around her stomach like a whirlpool of dread. Chest heaving, she brings the screen to her face—

**Karin**.

Sakura deflates like a limp balloon. Sighing, she relaxes back into her pillow, sinking the side of her face into the cool satin as she opens up Karin's text.

_'__Are you still with Sasuke?'_

Sakura frowns and replies_, 'No, we never got to hang out. He told me to go home.'_

A few minutes pass before her phone chimes once more.

_'__Wtf? Why? I thought you guys were supposed to get supplies tonight.'_

_'__Idk, I tried to ask him what's wrong but he just stormed off. Ino was right, he hates my guts.'_ She adds a cross-skull emoji to emphasize her doom.

_'__What a fucking douche nozzle.'_ Karin replies with a little angry emoji of her own, followed by two fists and Sakura smiles despite herself. _'He might be hot, but I swear that guy has some serious issues. Didn't you see the way he threw that ball at Naruto's face today? Total psycho.'_

She did see it, in fact. But she hadn't thought much of it at the time, as she was preoccupied with perplexing thoughts of her own. So she replies:_ 'I don't think he's a psycho. Everyone has their own problems. Besides, Naruto ended up dropping me off tonight, and he didn't seem bothered by it at all.'_

_'__He's my best friend._' Naruto's voice echos in her memory, deep and sincere.

Sakura laughs, however, when her phone rings. And before she can even say hello, Karin's accusing voice shoots across the receiver.

"_Naruto!? Okay, _what_ is going on between you two? You guys seem awfully close suddenly. The way he ran to your side today was pathetically romantic. Are you guys hooking up behind our backs—_"

"_No_!" Sakura sits up ramrod straight in her bed, "We're just friends! He's just . . . he's just really sweet—"

"_Oh he's _sweet_, huh_?" Sarcasm drips from Karin's tone like rich honey, and Sakura knows without even seeing her face that the red-head is glowing with conceit.

"_Stop_." Sakura whines, flopping back onto her pillows and twirling a pink strand around her index finger absently. "You know it's nothing like that. Besides, Naruto is the least of my problems right now."

"_Yeah, no shit._"

Sakura falls silent, a pang of hurt jolting through her chest like a lighting bolt.

Karin quickly catches herself. "_I'm sorry, Sakura, that's not what I meant—_"

"It's fine." Sakura replies, the light mirth she felt just moments ago snuffed out like the flame of a candle. She blinks up at her ceiling, sees bitterness burning in obsidian eyes. Feels the splintering of her heart as she recalls the hate twisting his face, inches from her own.

A deep sigh fizzles through the receiver. "_Look, you know I hate Sasuke, and as much as it kills me to say it; you're just gonna have to saddle up and ride this out for the sake of your GPA. I get that you're upset, but don't give him that power, Sakura. You've done nothing to deserve his shitty attitude. Who gives a fuck about that note, okay? It doesn't matter. You just be yourself and don't think for a second that this is your fault._"

Despite herself, relief blossoms in Sakura's chest like a budding rose as Karin's words lift her spirits, pulling on her heartstrings and making her feel an emotion she hadn't realized, until this moment, had long since abandoned her.

_Hope_.

"You know what?" Sakura says, confidence sprouting with each syllable. "You're right. Tomorrow, I'm going to go get supplies by myself, and if Sasuke wants nothing to with me? Fine. I'll make this project by myself, if I have to. I'm not failing Biology because of him."

"_Thatta' girl, Sakura._" She can hear the proud smirk in Karin's sharp voice. "_You just do you, and the world will work around it._"

A real smile spreads across Sakura's face, and she closes her eyes, relishing in her newfound faith. Faith that—even if things have taken a turn for the worst, even if the guy she likes more than anything in the world hates her and wants nothing to with her, even if her best friend won't look her in the eye—her inner strength will propel her forward, and as long as she just believes in herself, hope will always be somewhere on the horizon.

༺º༻

Karin's words etch themselves onto Sakura's heart and seep into the next morning, where white sunlight streams through her gauzy curtains and paint her reflection as she studies herself in the mirror.

Pink hair sits in a lazy, messy bun on her head, and two tiny strands escape on either side, framing her soft, feminine features. A loose white tee falls over her midriff, and rolled grey sweatpants cling to her hips—a lazy Saturday, indeed. She doesn't put on a lick of makeup or concealer. Putting the last three days behind her, Sakura decides she isn't going to let stupid boys or superficial rumors ruin her weekend.

A whimsy grin lifts one side of her lips, and the girl in the reflection does the same.

'_You just do you, and the world will work around it._'

So with a giant, cathartic breath, she inhales the air of a new day and throws her satchel strap over her shoulder, bag resting against her hip. Sakura heads out the door, hops onto her trusty pastel-yellow bicycle that she got for her fifteenth birthday, courtesy of Mom, and makes her way downtown, where the only craft store within cycling range happens to be.

She coasts down the suburban streets, bicycle steadily whirring as she rides down hill after hill until she's downtown, where buildings rise higher and higher the deeper she ventures. And when she finally rolls up to the craft store—a small, quirky shop tucked between a spunky café and bookstore—she parks her beloved transport onto a bike rack and heads inside.

A bell tinkles as she enters, and as she looks around the tall shelves layered with every art utensil under the sun, she scratches her head, realizing she has no idea what she even needs to begin with.

_Dammit, Kakashi-sensei! Couldn't you have at least given us a list of things to work with?!_

(What is she even supposed to _buy_?)

How does one make a freaking _'3D cell', _anyway? Sakura grimaces, strolling down the main aisle, green eyes perplexed as they slide over each row, curiously checking out every object she sees, wondering how she can possibly manage this project all by herself. She's just turning to walk down an aisle when—

She lets out a curt shriek before slapping a palm over her mouth, jumping back and ducking behind an end-cap loaded with scrapbook stickers and notebooks, nearly knocking everything off the shelves when she stumbles for balance, dropping into a crouch. Ignoring the few strange looks of passing staff, heart thrashing inside her chest, she slowly_, carefully_—as stealthily as someone as clumsy as Sakura can manage—peeks around the corner.

Because just on the other side of the aisle, looking at the back of some vague art supplies box, is . . .

"_Sasuke-kun_?" Sakura whispers beneath her breath, eyes wide.

She takes him in, blinking wildly, because this is the first time she's ever really seen him this close outside of school; even in a completely different environment, the Uchiha is strikingly handsome, so intimidating it makes her crouched knees quake. Then, she studies the absolute three sixty of his usual attire; no baseball uniform or KHS uniform in sight. Instead, a snug grey hoodie sits on his lean body, sleeves pushed up to his elbows. His ripped jeans are an even darker wash of grey; they hug his strong thighs and taper around his ankles where a pair of pristine Adidas Superstars decorate his feet.

_He looks amazing!_ Sakura gapes, stars speckling her emerald eyes. _As always._

Sakura startles, however, inching back in her hiding spot, when he returns the object to the shelf, stuffs his hands in his pockets, and turns as if he might look her way—

She stiffens, ducking behind the end-cap until she can no longer see him, and panics when she remembers her _own_ attire. She slaps both palms against her flushed cheeks in despair. _Nooo! He can't see me like this—I don't even have any makeup on! Gods, why didn't I put on something cute at least?! _She squeezes her eyes shut, smacking her big forehead repeatedly_. Stupid, stupid, stupid! _Swallowing thickly and gathering her nerves, she dares to peek around the corner once more . . .

Only to find that he's gone.

_Where did he—_

"What the hell are you doing?"

"_GUAH_—!" Sakura leaps to her feet with a petrified squawk, whirls around and falls back against the shelves, where several notebooks and products tumble to the tiled floor. "S-Sasuke-kun—!"

_How did he—?!_

He scowls down at her, hands still deep within his jean pockets, and repeats icily, "_What _are you doing?"

Sakura splutters, heart threatening to burst from her chest, "O-Oh, me? I—I was just tying my shoes—"

They both look down.

At her sandals.

She starts sweating. "D-Did I say tying my shoes?" She laughs nervously, scratching the back of her head, every word digging her deeper into her own grave. Every cell in her body vibrates with anxiety, and she hopes and prays to every god out there that Sasuke doesn't notice just how much she's shaking. "What I _actually_ meant to say was—!"

"Are you _following_ me?" He snaps, obsidian eyes narrowed in judgement as he looks her up and down, like she's a bug he's thinking about squishing.

"What!? _No_!" Sakura shouts, waving her hands hysterically, as if she can swat away the misunderstanding. "Of course not! I just came here to get supplies for our project and—!"

"_Lower your voice_." He growls, eyes darting around them frantically—like he can't even stand the idea of being seen with her in public.

Sakura bites her lip, lowers her head and wrings her hands together. "Sorry." She whispers, dropping her gaze before looking up at him beneath her eyelashes with big, guilty eyes.

༺º༻

A moment of silence passes between them as Sasuke regards her warily, taking in her disheveled appearance, the large messy bun on the top of her head, the loose little tee, and rolled sweatpants that hug her curved hips. She looks different outside of school.

Way different. She has no makeup on, and that horrendously yellow ribbon that she seems to always wear is nowhere in sight. And she's trembling like a leaf under his gaze, her expression reminiscent of a puppy after it's just gone and chewed up every shoe in the house. Like she _knows_ she's up to no good.

So Sasuke narrows his eyes at this girl, this irritating five-foot-nothing, frowning when she just stares up at him expectantly, like it's _his_ job to carry a conversation with her. (Yeah, right.) But just as he turns to leave—

"Um, Sasuke-kun?"

—He pauses, inhales deeply, and fights to keep his composure, because if he was being completely honest, he isn't sure if he can handle this. Somehow, in only the few short times he's been exposed to her overly-friendly disposition, everything she does grates on his nerves. He doesn't know why, other than the fact that she is clearly open about having sexual _relations_ with him, but it's far too much of a bother to even think about. So he doesn't.

"_What_." He prompts angrily when she doesn't continue, just blinks up at him with her big, innocent eyes.

His tone must hit a sore spot, because she winces. He almost feels bad—_almost_.

'_. . . you don't need to _know_ somebody in order to be kind to them!' _Naruto's voice, unbidden and entirely unwanted, softly drifts through his mind.

He swats the thought away because, really, what has she ever done to deserve his kindness? It's not like he owes her anything. In fact, he's more surprised than anything else that she keeps attempting to reach out to him, despite his multiple _clear_ attempts at getting her out of his hair. So she's his partner, so what? Did she really think they were going to work together for real?

"Well, I . . . " Her voice grows soft, hesitant, and her ivory cheeks bloom as pink as her hair. Emerald eyes flick everywhere but him until she finally manages: "was wondering if—I mean, since we're both here and all . . . "

Sasuke closes his eyes, preparing for what he has been hoping to avoid all along.

"Maybe we could shop for supplies together? And perhaps get started on the project tonight so that we, um, you know—well I mean—" she starts to ramble, words quickly leaving her lips like she's losing her breath. "—if that's all right w-with you, of course, I don't want to assume you're free tonight, I would never just _assume_ that, I just t-thought that since you were here—"

"_Fine_." he exhales in exasperation, not in any mood to argue; after all, Kakashi _did_ say they would fail the course if they didn't work together . . . And Sasuke doesn't fail.

"—that we could—_eh_?!" Her lips part in surprise, and her green eyes widen, as if he's just told her she's won the lottery and then some. She blinks at him like some puzzled, pink owl. "What?"

"I _said_—" he repeats, just this _once_, he tells himself, so she can get off his back already. "—fine."

What he isn't prepared for, however, is the bright, thrilling smile that stretches across her feminine features—eyes twinkling with unparalleled excitement as her whole face lights up with cheer. "_Really_?" She breathes, sweetly clasping her hands together against her chest.

Sasuke blinks down at her, both unnerved and uncomfortable by the blinding smile she offers him. But he doesn't let it phase him—it wouldn't be the first time he had to put up with an insufferable female, and it most certainly wouldn't be the last. So he gives her a reluctant nod.

"Oh, good!" She gushes with a relieved, light laugh, rubbing her forehead with the back of her hand. "I was really worried I was gonna have to do this all by myself!"

A slow blink is his only response.

With a joyful grin still curving her lips, she doesn't seem to notice. "Well, then, where should we start?"

Obsidian eyes trail over her shoulder to the aisle behind her, where he had been looking at art boxes full of a variety of supplies, searching for any potentially useful items, only to wind up unsuccessful. He's already been here half an hour, and he isn't really sure what the hell he's supposed to buy for this ridiculous project; he's not creative by any means and this might just be the worst project he's ever been assigned—he looks down at Sakura, debating.

"I don't know." He admits plainly, honestly, shrugging a single shoulder.

Placing an elbow in her palm, she cradles two fingers under her chin and cocks her head—her messy bun slightly shifts to the side—and ponders. "Hmm . . . " And then a lightbulb goes off, and she lifts an intelligent finger. "Oh, I know! How about we start by using styrofoam for our base? That way, instead of having to use so much glue, we could just anchor stuff into the styrofoam; it's definitely the most practical route." She brings a determined fist to her palm with a nod. "Alright! Just leave it to me, I'll find us some really good stuff to use."

She doesn't even give him a chance to reply before she happily strolls off down an aisle. With a long, drawn out sigh, he grudgingly follows behind her, hands stuffed in his pockets, and watches with a quirked, twitching eyebrow as she skirts around the store, spinning to excitedly show him all different kinds of supplies when she decides she finds something useful.

"—and we could totally use these!" She gushes on, and Sasuke blinks when a large bag of pipe-cleaners suddenly block his vision as she holds it up to his face. "_These_ things are super cool, and have a really bendy complex so we can use them as the Ribosome or something." She brings them back down to study them with a shrug. "They're a little fuzzy, too. Which is kind of cute."

This girl, Sasuke decides, pinching the bridge of his nose, is so impossibly annoying. Far too cheerful and so _bright_. Almost like a certain blond he knows too well. But _different_, too. Unlike the moron, this girl actually seems like she knows what she's talking about, and as reluctant as he is to admit; she's clearly smart.

When they—_she_ finally decides on a plethora of art supplies, Sakura marches up to the register and Sasuke shuffles quietly behind, silent as a shadow. She splays everything on the counter before rummaging around in her bag, taking far too long for his liking—

Sasuke sighs, digging his wallet out of his back pocket before Sakura can reach hers. "Here." He cooly offers the elder cashier his credit card—the older man gives him a kind, wrinkled smile.

"Oh, no, Sasuke-kun, it's okay I got it—!"

"Ohohoho, what a gentleman!" The old man interrupts with a warm-hearted chortle as he rings up their collection of knick knacks. Then, he says to Sakura with an amused smile dancing on his thin lips: "Your boyfriend sure is a keeper."

Sakura quickly waves her hands in defense, cheeks flushed in embarrassment. "Oh, no he's not—"

"She is _not_ my girlfriend." Sasuke scoffs, perhaps a bit more harsher than he intends, and jerks his chin away from her with a scowl. And so he misses the devastation that flashes across her features.

The old man blinks in surprise, glancing between them, and then strokes his ash-brown goatee with a considering hand. "I see." He says with a wise sparkle in his pearl eyes. Bagging up the rest of their purchases, the old man hands Sasuke back his credit card, and slides the plastic bags across the counter. "Love is a complicated thing, indeed."

Sakura chokes.

But Sasuke snatches the bags off the counter before Sakura can even think to grab them and storms toward the exit, not bothering to wait up for her as he shoves through the swinging glass door. Sakura calls after him, but her plea is stifled by the violently tinkling bell behind him.

༺º༻

**A/N:** Lmfao me and my friend were laughing because the clerk, if you didn't pick up on it, is Hagoromo LOL, we said he made a "Stan Lee" cameo and I was crying

**Please don't forget to review and let me know what you think!**

**Till next time**

**~Sloshi**


	8. Chapter 7

**A/N: **Okay honestly I just couldn't resist posting this chapter.

**SOUNDTRACK**

Luigi Boccherini: Minuetto (classical) - When Sakura has her daydream

**~CAPTAIN!~**

**CHAPTER 7**

༺º༻

Sakura is quick to catch up.

She bursts through the storefront's swinging door and scuttles to his side, panting. "Sasuke-kun!" She huffs, and he wonders just how out of shape she is to be that out of breath after such a short distance. "Wait a second, I have to get my bike!"

With a withering glare, the Uchiha reluctantly pauses and frowns as she runs over to the bike rack and unlatches a feminine little bicycle—scoffs at its thin yellow frame, light brown leather seat, and mini white basket on the front. It looks ridiculous, like it's owned by a twelve year old child rather than a grown woman. But when he takes in her pink hair, round, spirited eyes, and dorky disposition, he thinks that, perhaps, she really _is_ a child. Immature; not yet grown into a serious, adult mindset. So innocently unaware of the world and its disappointments. Sasuke almost pities her.

(Envies her.)

"You know, you didn't have to be so mean earlier." She pouts, prancing up alongside him, bike wheels clicking as she walks it next to her. "It's not like that man knew we weren't together—"

"Some people need to mind their business." He interjects bluntly, stuffing a hand that isn't carrying plastic bags in his pocket, as he continues onward. He tries not to think about the unease coiling in his stomach; the fact that he's leading this stranger to his house, where she'll probably put her hands on everything she sees. He's never taken a girl to his house before, least of all _led_ one right to his doorstep.

But he supposes it can't be helped. He'll just have to make it crystal _clear_ that she isn't to share his address—lest a million stupid girls come parading onto his doorstep.

"I guess." He hears her mutter beneath her breath. But then she says, loud and clear, and with a twinge of blatantly suppressed excitement: "Are we going to your house?"

He shoots her a suspicious side glance and nods. The unease in his gut spreads a bit further in response to the tone of her voice, and he knows in that moment, without question, that he's just made a terrible decision.

"How—how come you never answered my text?" She blurts suddenly, almost choking on the question, as if she's been thinking on it for sometime now and, scared of his reaction, merely let it slip without thinking.

Sasuke doesn't answer, because he doesn't have to answer. He knows what she's doing—knows she's attempting to make small talk like they're actually friends. Or perhaps she just likes to hear herself talk. Whichever. They walk in brewing silence for few more minutes before, inevitably, she speaks again.

"I really am sorry, Sasuke-kun."

The sudden sincerity lacing her voice forces him to look at her then; to see those large, green eyes looking up at him, swimming with unadulterated guilt and sadness. Under the bright afternoon sunlight, flecks of gold shimmer around her dilated pupils, and her ivory skin shines under the cloudless spring sky.

Her pink hair has somehow been mussed further, little strands poking every which way from her nestled, lazy bun; it's fitting in some strange, bizarre way, and he suddenly thinks he prefers her like this. (Not that he ever preferred her at all.)

But what really, truly makes him falter—takes him by quiet, unexpected surprise—is the genuine, deep emotion carving her unblemished face. With glistening eyes, she stares back at him with such heavy sympathy, he has to wonder if the innocent, ditzy girl he saw just moments ago ever existed. Wonders if, perhaps, he was wrong about this girl on some level, because no child _he_ knows could ever be capable of an expression like _that_.

Sakura's expression suddenly twists in horror—

"Sasuke-kun, watch out for—!"

He slams face-first into a lamppost.

"—_that pole _. . . " she finishes softly with a cringe.

He curses violently, dropping their art supplies to the sidewalk and stumbling back several steps. A palm flies to his nose and he tenderly touches his nostrils, inspecting the damage, _praying_ that he isn't bleeding. His neck and ears rise tenfold in temperature, heart racing as he flusters to collect himself.

"Sasuke-kun! Are you _okay_?" He hears Sakura ask with alarming concern, and then a gentle hand comes down on his arm—

"Don't touch me!" He snaps angrily, shrugging off her touch like she's a poisonous roach. He gives his nose another check before hissing: "I'm _fine_."

Green eyes linger on his face for a few more moments, flickering over his furious expression with open worry, and for a split second he thinks that she's going to try and coddle him like a child—

Sasuke's anger flares like a roaring flame, however, when he sees that she's suddenly stifling _laughter, _lips tight and cheeks puffing in a show of barely contained giggles. He scoops up the plastic bags, briskly marches around the stupid lamppost and stomps onward, ready to leave her completely behind. Senior project be damned.

"Hey! Wait for me!" She calls, bicycle wheels whirring quickly as she jogs with it to his side. "I didn't mean to laugh!" She says when she finally catches up to him, her short legs pumping and matching his quickening speed like it's nothing short of a casual walk, "You said you were fine, so I thought it would be okay. Are you alright?"

He doesn't look at her. "I already told you I'm _fine_."

"If you say so, Sasuke-kun . . . " She shrugs, not sounding entirely convinced.

They drop the subject and neither of them speak after that, which suits Sasuke perfectly _fine_.

Just._ Fine_.

༺º༻

When they reach the outskirts of town, the tall buildings, skinny streets, and honking traffic fade into mellow suburbia, where deep magenta cherry trees line the sidewalks in neat, perfect intervals, and the calm ambiance settles over them like a peaceful blanket.

The afternoon sun sits high on its apex against the blue sky, and although it's not nearly as humid today as it usually is, it's toasty all the same. But, as Sakura trudges up the incline of sidewalk with her trusty bike at her side, a sheen of sweat coating her forehead, and stifling sweatpants hugging her legs, she doesn't let the sweltering heat quell the excitement bubbling wildly inside her gut at the fact that she's _finally_—after four, long years of hoping, dreaming, fantasizing, and _wishingwishingwishing_—going to _Sasuke Uchiha's house_.

The baseball captain of KHS's _home_.

She tries to recall every rumor, every detail, everything she's ever heard about him—tries to prepare herself for the grand and marvelous manor he surely lives in; he's a _billionaire_, after all. And as Sasuke walks several paces ahead of her, she practically floats behind him with a wistful sigh; lost in her swirling daydream.

_Two strikingly handsome butlers in fresh suit and tie lean forward and open the giant, filigree wrought-iron gates, parting the way for them like they're royalty. The gates open up into a sprawling courtyard, where perfectly trimmed rosebushes and cut green hedges line the giant, circular cobblestone driveway._

_A magnificent, three-tiered granite fountain features as the grand centerpiece, spewing sparkling clean water from its spout, where it flows downwards into a glimmering pool of crystal clear liquid. Rainbows of butterflies flutter along the neat rows of flower beds, flanking either side of the exquisitely monumental lawn. _

_And just ahead, is the biggest, most extravagant mansion she's ever seen. Peppered with giant curving windows, tall marble beams and impossibly mountainous walls—Sakura looks to Sasuke. _

_Who looks to her. Then, slowly, he offers a waiting hand. And with a shy, blushing smile, she slips her fingers into his—_

Sakura smacks into the back of Sasuke's broad back when he suddenly stops without warning. Throwing a glare over his shoulder, frowning down at her, he says flatly, "Do you _ever_ watch where you're going?"

She rubs her forehead with a quiet moan. And then bristles when she registers his bitter remark. Opening her mouth, she's just about to shove it in his face how, only just fifteen minutes ago, he hypocritically smacked into a lamppost like an idiot, when he suddenly pivots and walks up a driveway.

Angry green eyes trail after him, only to pause in surprise when she realizes that it isn't just _a_ driveway.

It's _his_ driveway.

She blinks up at the modest two-story townhouse; its grey paneling modern yet dreary, and a linear concrete driveway paves up to a white garage door. To the left of the garage, a meager three steps lead up to a stone porch where a slim black front door waits underneath a tiny overhang.

There is no wrought-iron gate; no butlers ready to welcome him home, no rose beds or magnificent fountains or hedges or marble columns or sprawling courtyards. There is no lavish mansion, no butterflies; not a single hint of wealth, not a single thing that would suggest this boy was the son of one of the richest men in the entire country.

Sasuke stops halfway up the driveway when he realizes she hasn't moved from her spot on the sidewalk. He turns to her impatiently. "Are you coming or not?"

"I thought you were rich." She blurts without thinking, only to shrink in mortification when the realization, the harrowing weight, of what she's just said hits her like a truck. Heat floods her cheeks and she drowns in her embarrassment, choking on wave after wave of distress. She hadn't meant it like _that_—

"Sorry to _disappoint_." He scoffs, and she can see the resentment simmering in his onyx eyes even from where she stands several feet away.

But it _isn't_ disappointment she feels. It's bewilderment—a total shock that someone like Sasuke Uchiha, son of the Uchiha Enterprises' CEO, a literal _billionaire_, the baseball captain of KHS, and heartthrob of Konoha, lives in something so . . . _normal_.

Pink eyebrows furrow in confusion, as she thinks about all the rumors and stories and whispers that have weaved their way through the halls, seeping into everyone's gullible head, lies built on lies on top of lies; solidifying into this fake image of this boy who has done nothing but sit there and take it silently, willingly—without so much as a fight for who he really is.

And Sakura has to wonder, between the loss in his eyes, the sincerity of Naruto's words, and the quaint little home in front her, if any rumor about Sasuke Uchiha has ever been true at all.

So Sakura walks forward, bike clicking at her side. Every step she takes is autonomous as she closes the distance between them, like she has relinquished control of her body to the thread between their hearts, reeling her in like a lost fish at sea, drawing her ever closer to this boy she has dedicated every waking moment to thinking, wondering, dreaming about for four years straight, and stops—right in front of him.

And with anguish burning in her eyes, she looks up into his and whispers, softly, kindly, "No, I think it's lovely."

A black eyebrow raises slowly, and he looks at her like she's just told him she eats cereal, milk and all, off the floor on Wednesdays. Sakura sighs, sulking past him to lean her bike against the garage door, and then turns to him. "Ready when you are."

༺º༻

The first thing she notices when she takes her first steps into Sasuke Uchiha's home is the smell.

Clean, fresh linen, a hint of sandalwood, and sharp pine hits her nostrils, and she immediately recognizes this as Sasuke's natural scent. She inhales deeply and it wraps around her senses as if Sasuke himself is hugging her, and a volley of butterflies flutter wildly in her stomach.

The foyer they stand in isn't much a foyer at all, as it opens immediately into a long narrow hall. A navy rug runs along the dark wood flooring, leading off to a simple potted plant atop a black end-table at the far end of the hallway. To the right of that, a square archway opens up into a room she can't quite make out from her perspective, but she sees the edge of a TV and the back of a cloudy grey couch.

In front of them, against the far left wall, a long wooden staircase stretches up until it disappears around the corner to the second floor, and to her immediate right, on the other side of Sasuke, is another door—presumably to the garage.

Simple. Quaint. Clean. The external embodiment of Sasuke himself.

She goes to step off the mat—

"Shoes off." Sasuke demands before she can even take a full step, slipping off his own and setting them neatly to the side.

And that's when she hears it; before she can even slip off her first sandal, a light, muffled sound makes its way from the top of the staircase and Sakura looks up just in time to see the fluffiest, fattest, most cutest black cat she's ever seen. It trots down the staircase on its nimble paws, trilling softly with each step, fluffy tail completely vertical in the air. An Uchiwa fan dangles from the red collar clasped around its poofy neck.

Sakura gasps before melting in absolute delight. "Hello there, kitty kitty!" She coos, stars sparkling in her eyes as she crouches down with a beckoning hand.

The cat freezes at the bottom of the staircase when it sees her. Its slit yellow eyes narrow vigilantly, like it's assessing her as predator or prey, but Sakura doesn't mind. She adores cats and has loved them since she was little—whether they liked her or not. And when it warily paws its way forward, she gushes with happiness.

"You're so _cute_!" She reaches out to pat its fuzzy little head—

"I wouldn't—"

Sakura shrieks when the cat hisses like a viper, every black hair on its body bristling, back arching in defense—she leaps behind Sasuke's back, quivering in fright as she peeks around the shelter of his arm.

And just like that, the cat reverts back to its deceivingly adorable disposition and it trots haughtily to Sasuke's feet, nosing affectionately against his calf. It weaves through his legs, and then it suddenly looks up at her with a mischievous twinkle in its beady yellow eyes, and Sakura _swears_ it smirks, as if to say: _'He's mine.'_

Sakura flounders, inching back from Sasuke until she's flat against the front door, gaping down at this absolutely _rude_ fuzz-ball of conceit.

_That's—That's the most arrogant cat I've ever seen!_

"This," Sasuke says, a hint of smug amusement playing in his baritone voice as he reaches down to scratch its furry ears, "is Dango."

And then Sakura bursts out laughing—Sasuke whips his head around with a scowl. "_What_?"

"You—you named your cat—" she guffaws, clutching at her stomach as she chokes on her laughter, "—after _dumplings—_!" Her sentence breaks off into a another hiccup of giggles, mirthful tears gathering in the corner of her eyes. And she's so preoccupied with her laughter that she doesn't see the way his features darken, doesn't see the deadly malice churning in his obsidian eyes like a swirling hurricane. The plastic bags in his hand crinkle beneath his clenching fist.

"_I_ didn't name her." Sasuke snaps with such underlying hatred that, as curt as a flipped switch, Sakura stops laughing. She gulps. And for a moment, the sudden raw rage in his face actually terrifies her, and she surreptitiously inches toward the doorknob, ready to make a break for it when—

"_Maou_." Dango drawls lazily, sitting nonchalantly at Sasuke's feet, swishing its fluffy tail back and forth as it peers up at her.

"Um—S-Sasuke-kun?" Sakura begins slowly, carefully, as if just the sound of her voice could break the dam holding back his crudely suppressed wrath.

And then it's gone.

_What the hell was _that_ all about?_

He turns his back on her and makes his way down the hallway where he disappears into the adjacent room. Assuming she's supposed to follow, Sakura quickly flips off her sandals— they land in a lopsided pile next to Sasuke's neatly placed Adidas—and she tiptoes around the fuzzy black menace, watching for any sudden movements that would spell out her imminent death.

Dango blinks up at her with pompous amusement (seriously, what an egotistical cat), like it's just _waiting_ for Sakura to make the wrong move. The cat gives its front paw a long, tantalizing lick, beady eyes never straying from hers.

"_You aren't very nice._" Sakura whispers angrily as she creeps by, eyes narrowing when a flicker of enjoyment passes through its slit eyes. And then she jumps when it hisses, swiping a gleaming sharp claw at her feet.

Sakura scurries away—

But when she makes her way through the archway, she screeches to a halt, blinking at the completely open concept. Directly in front of her, a grey L-shaped couch faces the left wall, where a giant flat screen TV rests above a stark white entertainment center. (Every wall is painted _navy blue_, of all colors) A low black coffee table sits in-between, its sleek wood outright _sparkling_ in its cleanliness.

She mentally ticks off attributes of Sasuke's character as she looks around, tucking them away for later: _meticulous, minimal, neat. Obviously likes the color navy. Great taste in furniture. _

And to her right, Sasuke's modernly styled, black-and-white kitchen shines with immaculate beauty against the dark navy walls, separated from the living room only by a long, granite-topped counter complete with four tall, wooden barstools—one of which Sasuke sits upon with his back to her.

She pads barefoot across the plush beige carpet to his side, swallowing back the sudden spike in nerves at the thought of being so close to him; both thrilled and terrified at the idea of just the two of them secluded in his house. And although it is nothing like her fantasies, although he does not lead her to his room or share secret glances with her across his bed, she finds that she loves being around him just the same.

Because being in his presence alone, without a distraction in sight—to be given a chance to see him behind the curtain of untruths he is forced to hide behind in the watching eyes of KHS—is all she's really ever wanted.

And in the deafening, heavy silence of his small home, save for the soft, steady hum of the stainless-steel fridge and their quiet breathing, it's as if the walls shrink around her—suffocating her with the intimacy of Sasuke's smoldering proximity.

A dim circular lamplight above highlights the art supplies he has strewn about the glossy countertop. They probably bought way more supplies than they needed, but Sakura knows it's better to be safe than sorry, and with a wary glance at Sasuke's reserved expression, she slowly perches herself on the stool next to him.

"I really like your house." She compliments cheerfully, clasping her hands in her lap, bare feet swinging below.

Sasuke sifts through the knick-knacks before them, spreading out popsicle sticks and pipe-cleaners and sticks of glue before setting a big, flat topped styrofoam ball to the side. His onyx eyes harden as he seems to consider something, studying the objects before him like he's trying to piece together a particularly difficult puzzle.

"How long have you lived here?"

An irritated glance shoots her way and she sucks in her lips. Right. As much as it pains her to accept, they're here to work on a project—not as acquaintances, not as pals, and most certainly not as _friends_. The hurt that clangs through her at the thought doesn't discourage her, however, because she decides it's still better than nothing. Sasuke is her Biology partner for the rest of the semester, and if that alone isn't enough to celebrate, the fact that he has trusted her enough to willingly bring her into his home _is_.

So she sweeps her satchel over her head and sets it on the countertop, attempting to make herself feel a bit more comfortable, relaxed. In the pulsing silence, she squirms restlessly, kicking her feet back and forth on the stool, hoping that he isn't able to hear the wild thumping of her heartbeat as it pounds in her ears.

For a moment, she almost considers bringing up the note. Because now is as good of a chance as any if she's going to apologize—perhaps alone, with nobody around to witness or interrupt her speech, she can finally explain to Sasuke that what he read was . . . a misunderstanding. But when she musters the courage to open her mouth, a nauseating wave of apprehension tingles in her gut.

And she chickens out.

_You coward!_

"How come Kakashi-sensei didn't, umm . . . give us a paper to go by?" She manages instead after an excruciating bout of silence, with Sasuke just staring robotically down at their untouched project.

"How should I know?" Sasuke places a hard elbow on the countertop and pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration.

"Well, I didn't bring my textbook, but I know what the inside of a cell looks like and I know every function of its anatomy by heart, so this shouldn't be too difficult." She shrugs, as if such knowledge is perfectly common. "I'd like to be a surgeon one day, maybe even a researcher on the side, so it's really important for me to know stuff like this. Especially if I'm researching a cure."

He shifts to look at her, listening.

Sakura's cheeks flush pink. Slightly trembling under his unexpected, undivided attention, she continues. "But—But my biggest dream, however, is to open up a children's clinic. Perhaps not just for surgery or anything, but for kids in need of . . . emotional support. Psychological services for children who . . ." _have lost important people in their lives, and who have never recovered from the aftermath. _She swallows: "have not been so fortunate as others."

Beneath his dark fringe, obsidian eyes flicker over her face, like he's deeply considering her, taking in her personal confession and turning it over in his brilliant, mysterious mind.

"What about you?"

He blinks, and the perplexity in his eyes vanish behind long eyelashes. "What _about_ me?"

"What's _your_ dream?"

There's a tense silence, in which Sakura realizes she's perhaps crossed a line; attempted to reach into his personal life, stepped over an invisible boundary that separates she and Sasuke Uchiha like a concrete wall. Because they _aren't_ friends—have never been, perhaps never will—but she has to wonder, in this moment, as his eyes harden like granite and a deep frown curves his lips, if they could ever be.

༺º༻

**A/N:** So who do you think named Dango ;)

**Please don't forget to review and let me know what you think!**

**Till next time**

**~Sloshi**


	9. Chapter 8

**A/N: Don't hate Ino yet. Sorry for very long wait for update, school just started for me and you know how that shit goes lmaoooo (fml.) I wrote most of this story over the summer when I had free time. **

**Also I'd just like to address to a few reviews: If you think my writing is mediocre. . . I mean, i'm not _really_ a writer. This is my first real fic/first ****multichap, so i'm sorry if it isn't up to par with your standards I guess lmao. And to the person who referred to Sasuke as abusive? How? _Where_? If you're referring to him grabbing her wrist, it's because she literally yanked out his headphones (which you'll soon find are very important to him for a reason.) It's not like he punched her in the face, I mean _fuck_. Sakura also apologizes to Sasuke a lot because it's the _only_ thing she feels like she can do right now, but things will soon change. **

**On that note . . . **

**~CAPTAIN!~**

**Chapter 8**

༺º༻

Sasuke decides this girl, with pink hair and expressive doe eyes, is not only annoying—but absolutely unpredictable, as well.

One moment she's innocently curious, almost timid in her behavior, and the next she's boldly spewing some nonsense about personal childhood ambitions and daring to ask him about his own. He has to admit, she's as brave as she is strange, but she's no closer to receiving an answer to that question as she is to joining the KHS baseball team; it's just never going to happen.

Besides, who is _she_ to ask about his dreams? And, if he even had any—save for one, which is not as much as a dream as it is an _unfathomably_ dark ambition—just what makes her think he'd ever tell her them to begin with? He doesn't like people who pry, and he most certainly doesn't like those who can't mind their own business.

So Sasuke looks at her, sees the uncertainty dancing on her expression as clearly as if it were tattooed on her face, and decides he wants to hate Sakura—wants to hate the flurry of emotions that dip and curve and loop around in her startling green eyes like a rollercoaster. Wants to hate the innocent lilt of her voice when she says his name; wants to hate the perpetual bubble of happiness that seems to float after her every footstep.

But even as he looks at her now, he can't help remembering—as it has played unbidden over and over again in his mind since the moment it happened—the astonishing way she caught Suigetsu's foul ball.

And as he had laid down to sleep that very night, (blatantly ignoring the buzz of his phone on the nightstand, knowing _exactly_ who would be texting him that late) the grave determination that had painted Sakura's face as she soared through the air played on a loop in his mind, and her pink hair fluttered behind his eyelids long after he had fallen asleep.

Because she was nothing short of fearless, in that split second of a moment when raw, pure instinct fueled her slender body—a lioness in sheep's clothing. And Sasuke's no idiot. He knows a good catch when he sees one; he knows a good player, a good athlete, a good _person_, when he sees one.

And so Sasuke can, at the very least, admit to himself that this girl is admirable in her own, bizarre way—

"Sasuke-kun?"

—but he sure as hell doesn't have to like her.

༺º༻

Sakura watches his handsome expression in anticipation, holding her breath. After glowering at her in such a long, painful silence, she has to wonder what it is he's thinking about. Perhaps, he doesn't have a dream—or perhaps, it just isn't one he's willing to share. Or maybe she just pissed him off. It was imprudent to ask him something so personal as it is, but Sakura couldn't quite stop herself from asking all the same.

(For a man as mysterious as Sasuke, Sakura's positive _anyone_ in her position might have made the same mistake.)

It isn't that she means to pry, of course, because she's not that kind of person—but she finds that it's almost impossible _not_ to ask him questions about himself, if not just for the sake of cleansing her brain, detoxing the stupid rumors that have stored themselves there in her dark times of desperation.

But does anybody _really_ know anything about Sasuke Uchiha? Other than, of course, the fact that he _is_ the son of Fugaku Uchiha, and related to only the most _prodigious_ family in all of Japan—

_Wait a second. _

The wheels stop churning in her head.

Where _is_ his family?

With a house as tiny as this, there's no _way_ any family member lives here with him; despite its beautiful modesty and open, minimalistic concept, anymore than two people would be totally cramped. But it's almost _unheard_ of to live alone at such a young age—unless of course, you're a black sheep, have brought dishonor on your family, or have been permanently kicked out of your own home, shunned by your loved ones.

_Did—Did Sasuke get kicked out by his family? _

Sasuke has gone back to arranging pieces of their project on the countertop like a puzzle—a perfectly cool expression replacing the simmering glare he wore just moments ago. (Ever the fickle, roiling sea of emotion.)

She's just about to open her mouth—

_Ping-Ping!_

A muffled, tinkling sound chimes from inside her satchel. Sakura furrows her brow and reaches inside her bag, fishing around for her phone. And when she brings the lit screen to her face, her heart free-falls into her stomach: **Ino.**

_'New message'_

Trepidation zips through her body, waves of dread coursing through her veins and coiling like a tight knot in the pit of her stomach—she feels sick. All at once, all over again, she's reminded of the note, the rumors, the judging eyes and the words she had screamed in her best friend's face only days ago.

Chest heaving, she swallows what little saliva is left in her dry mouth, and she stares down at the bright screen like it's just turned into a gun in her hands. Heavy, cold, intimidating—the slim phone suddenly feels as if it weighs ten tons. Her lips part, and the storm in her chest rumbles with apprehension.

She's so preoccupied by the icy shock that has frozen her solid, that she doesn't notice the way Sasuke looks at her; examining her closely, and perhaps a bit confused. But staring at her nonetheless. His onyx eyes dart from her phone to her face, silently assessing the situation.

With a hard swallow, Sakura swipes her thumb across the screen.

_'We need to talk. Meet u at ur house in 20.'_

And just like that, Sakura's heart explodes into a careening rhythm, riding on the tidal wave of anxiety that rushes through her system.

"Sorry, I—I need to go." Sakura blurts, shoving her phone into her satchel and swinging it over her head. She hops off the stool and hurries out of the room without a glance back.

And when she swings open his front door and disappears into the blinding sunlight, she also doesn't see Sasuke standing behind her in the threshold, completely bewildered.

༺º༻

Sasuke watches from the front doorway, arms crossed, leaning against the frame, as Sakura hops onto her little yellow bike and pedals off without a word.

And when she vanishes in a pink whirlwind down the street, he shakes his head and steps back into his home. The door snicks shut behind him.

"_Tch_."

So much for their _project_.

"_Maouu_." Dango mewls from where she sits at the end of the staircase, blinking up at him curiously as if to ask: '_did you really let that pink haired cretin into our house?'_

Sasuke sighs, shoving his hands in his pockets as he goes to make his way to the stairs, but slips a hand out of his pocket to bend down and scratch Dango's ears as he passes, ready to take a shower and spend the rest of his Saturday in the quiet comfort of his home.

And forget today ever happened.

༺º༻

Sakura pedals like a madwoman all through downtown, not realizing, until now, just how far Sasuke's house is from her own.

It will probably take her at least fifteen minutes just to reach the other side of town, and she already knows, with dread twisting every inch of her gut, that Ino is naturally impatient—she's probably already at the house, tapping an angry foot, arms crossed, and glaring over the horizon. But as Sakura rises from the bike seat and pumps the wheels faster, weaving in and out of pedestrians ambling along the sidewalk, she has to wonder what it is Ino wants to "talk" about. And more importantly: why does it have to be right _now_?

_Cha! And just when me and Sasuke were really getting somewhere! _

(Okay, so maybe they weren't _actually_ getting somewhere. But still, could her timing be any worse?!)

_'We need to talk.'_

Sakura swallows thickly, and when she finally makes it out of town and into her cozy little neighborhood, she races down Panko Lane and skids sideways to a screeching halt, bike tires squealing, at the end of the empty driveway. She jumps off her bike and jogs with it at her side up the drive, sweat coating every inch of her body, and heart pounding from both exertion and trepidation.

Because there on the front porch, arms crossed and a scowl etched onto her pretty face, is Ino. Her long, platinum ponytail hangs down to her narrow waist, where a purple miniskirt rests upon her hips. Underneath her crossed arms, ample cleavage pokes out of a crisp, white halter tank top. She looks perfect—sensually alluring as usual, and an unwanted twinge of jealousy pulls at Sakura's gut when she mentally compares Ino's effortlessly cute outfit with her own messy get-up.

Sakura's pink hair has fallen completely from her bun, windblown and frizzy as it tumbles over her shoulders in sticky waves. Her own white tee clings to her sweaty skin, and the grey sweatpants she usually adores are now stuck to every curve of her aching legs. She carefully rests her bike against the garage door.

"Where the hell have you been?" Ino demands when Sakura makes it up the few porch steps, still uncontrollably huffing from her impromptu exercise. "I've been waiting here for like, _thirty_ minutes."

"I'm sorry—I was at—Sasuke-kun's—"

"Oh _really_?" Ino snarks with the quirk of a blond eyebrow, eyes narrowing.

"Listen, Ino—"

"No. I didn't come here to listen, _Sakura_—" Ice plummets into her stomach, because Ino doesn't call her by her real name like _that_ unless she _really_ means buisness. "—I came here to tell _you_ a few things. So _you_ listen to _me_."

When Sakura falls silent, Ino continues without a hitch.

"So I've been really thinking," She begins, lifting a hand to inspect perfectly manicured nails. "About what you said the other day, and . . . " icy blue eyes meet emerald. "Since I'm _always_ your problem, since this whole note bullshit is _my_ fault, and since I _always_ get you into 'trouble'—" She crooks her fingers with sarcastic air quotes, "maybe it's best we part ways. Since I'm such a terrible friend and all."

Sakura's eyes widen. "Ino, you know that's not—!"

Ino holds up a hand with a shake of her head. "Nope. I get it, Sakura. I do. What you said that day really made me think. And honestly? You're totally right." She laughs dryly, "I'm just a shitty friend—" Sakura opens her mouth to interject but Ino plows onward, "—I'm not done yet. I think it's high time I told _you_ how _I_ feel. And you want to know how I _really_ feel, Sakura?"

Sakura gulps when Ino steps forward.

And then she stumbles back when Ino flicks her forehead. But Sakura's surprised to see unshed tears suddenly glistening in her blue eyes, as if her heart is breaking just as well. "I think it might just be best for _you_ that we don't talk anymore. You know, so you don't have to worry about 'cleaning up' after me. Just doing you a favor, since I'm so obviously a burden. Wouldn't want to get you in trouble again."

With wide eyes, Sakura's lips tremble as she brings a hand to her forehead, where Ino's flick still reverberates in her skull like a death knell.

"Ino, you're my—!" _best friend_.

"Save it, Forehead. That's all I came to say. So, if we're done here, I think I'll be heading home. Ciao." And just like that, Ino hops off the porch, ponytail swinging haughtily behind her as she sashays across the front lawn and disappears down the sidewalk.

Wide, glassy eyes follow after her retreating back, and remain over the horizon long after she's gone. Completely frozen, still as stone, Sakura isn't able to grasp what has just happened, but her aching heart tells her all she needs to know.

She's just lost her best friend.

Over a fucking _note_.

A piece of paper.

Hot tears cascade over the curve of her cheeks where they collide beneath her chin and drip to the concrete porch. She blinks away tear after tear, but they fall endlessly, pouring like rain down her face. And then she's shoving through her front door and falling back against the frame, sliding to the floor in a heap of sobs.

Because Dad's not here. Mom's forever gone. Her best friend has just cut their friendship of thirteen years. The love of her life hates her. And her sobs echo off every wall in the emptiness of this house.

༺º༻

She's not sure when it happens—how long it's been or how many tears she's shed—but when her heaving chest slides into a steady rhythm and the salty tears dry on the apples of her cheeks, Sakura rises from her stiff, crumpled form on the floor.

And when she trudges down the hallway to her room, where she throws off her satchel and promptly collapses face-first into a heap of bedding, she tells herself she needs to take a shower—to wash this entire day off her body and scrub it out of her head—until she's perfectly sterilized and cleansed from the reminder that she's never felt more alone in this moment than she ever has in her whole life.

She never even got the chance to say she's sorry.

And at this point, Sakura doesn't care whose fault it is, or who started it, because of all their fights, this has to be the silliest. But it doesn't make it any less real. She hadn't even realized how terrible her words had sounded, or even thought about how they might have affected Ino. They've had fights before, more times than she can even count . . .

But Ino has _never_ said something so cruel as _that_ before. And so Sakura has to wonder what makes this time so different; what was it that she said, among all the awful things she spat that day, hurt her so badly that she had to go and completely _break_ off their friendship? Or had it been coming for a long time now, and Sakura had always just been too blind, too preoccupied with baseball captains and daydreams, to see it?

As if this little situation was the last and final push they needed to shatter their friendship—the final straw.

_What have I done, Mom?_

Sakura finally sits up when storm clouds gather in her eyes, but she quickly wipes away the tears. She doesn't want to cry again. Across the room, the stuffed pink bear, that Ino had so kindly won for her, stares right back with its cute button eyes. Gritting her teeth, Sakura clambers off the bed and stomps right over to it. And then she snatches it up and chucks it to the floor.

"You're my fucking best friend!" Sakura screams, shaking with rage as she channels her anger at the innocent plush animal face down on the carpet. "I don't—" she chokes off with a sob, "I don't _understand_!"

She inhales and holds it in before exhaling slowly, collecting herself before she can tear up the rest of her room in her spiraling fit of anger. And so she picks up her satchel and pulls out her phone before throwing the bag off to the side, plopping once more onto the bed.

Before she can help herself, she's typing up a message with trembling thumbs.

_'You're my best friend, Ino. Please don't do this.'_

She taps send.

And when she glimpses her recent contacts, she smacks her forehead just as a new wave of dread washes over her, twisting her insides like a wrung towel.

_Oh my god!_

She forgot all about Sasuke!

She shakes her head in disbelief, remembering that she just suddenly up and left him there, high and dry, to do the project all by himself.

_If he didn't hate me before . . . _

Heart racing, she quickly types up another message.

_'I am so, so sorry I left in such a hurry. Please forgive me, I had to take care of something important and I didn't really have time to explain. Meet up Monday after practice?'_

But the second she goes to set the phone on her night stand, it buzzes in her hand.

_Huh?_

Sakura brings the screen back to her face.

**Sasuke Uchiha.**

_'New message'_

She blinks, wiping away tear residue from her eyes with a sniffle and opens the text.

_'Fine.'_

And just like that, her whole day is made.

༺º༻


	10. Chapter 9

**A/N: Don't you just love misunderstandings? **

**~CAPTAIN!~ **

**CHAPTER 9**

༺º༻

Monday rolls around.

And Sakura already knows something's up.

As she ambles through the halls first thing in the morning, it happens all around her—indistinct whispering behind cupped hands, strange looks over shoulders, and stifled snickers as she passes by. Her pink brows furrow, and she picks up the pace, nearly sprinting to her locker after the umpteenth finger pointed in her direction.

But it's only when she gets to her locker that she finally picks up bits and pieces of maniacal whispers, surrounding her like chattering white noise from every direction.

_"—think she's fucking them both?"_

_"—did she manage that?"_

_"I saw—picture, too."_

_"Next thing you know—whole team."_

Sakura blanches. Just what in the hell is going on _now_? What _picture_? She covers her face in her hands, closing her eyes and realizing she should have just called in sick. She wonders what would happen if she violently smashed her head into the lockers and splattered her head like a ripe, juicy tomato. (They'd probably all give her a round of applause.)

Sakura sighs, spinning the locker dial with more force than necessary, only to jump six feet in the air when someone screams her name.

"_SAKURA_!"

She whips her head to the right, just in time to see Tenten and Karin elbowing full speed through the crowd at the end of the hall, Hinata trailing politely behind and bowing frantically in apology to every person they knock out of their way. They nearly barrel into her when they reach her locker, smacking into one another like dominos in order to stop themselves from crashing into Sakura herself. And with vicious pants, they hunch over and try to catch their breath.

"What the hell is going on?!" Sakura snaps in a hushed, terrified whisper, eyes darting about the halls and catching several pairs of gleaming, curious eyes.

"Sakura—have you—seen it yet? Tell me—you've seen it!" Tenten huffs wildly, digging into her blazer pocket and whipping out her phone. And then she shoves it into Sakura's face, tapping the screen with a blunt nail. "_Look_! It's everywhere!"

"I hate to say it, but someone's really got it out for you, Sakura." Karin adds with a tired shake of her head.

Sakura blinks, furrowing her brows as she leans in. Then, her eyes narrow at the illuminated picture on screen, complete with a cute little caption underneath.

_'Narusaku or Sasusaku: Sakura Haruno, the new baseball bachelorette or easy-lay of KHS?'_

Just above, is a picture of Naruto pressing her up against the lockers scandalously. And with his strong hand on her shoulder and a pink blush on her face, the camera somehow captured the exact moment his blazing blue eyes were inches from hers that day. And with her own incriminating expression staring back with timid surprise, as if his bold proximity secretly excites her, they look but a whisper away from sharing a deep, passionate kiss.

Sakura's soul leaves her body, and she floats flimsily downward until she's just a pile of swirling eyes and pink hair in fetal position on the floor.

_Why . . . _

"S-Sakura-san— " Hinata begins uneasily, but Karin's sharp tone cleaves through her soft voice like an axe.

"We have to find out who did this!" The red-head snarls, slamming an angry fist into her palm. "This fucking school is so toxic, I _swear_—"

"Why would they even do something like this? What is there to gain?" Tenten breathes quietly, turning the phone to look at the scandal for herself. Then, she looks down at Sakura's curled up form on the floor and her chocolate eyes slope with pity. "I'm so sorry, Sakura. Hopefully this will pass and everyone will forget about it by tomorrow—"

"_Why_ . . ." Sakura whispers robotically, spellbound by the horrific mortification. Glazed emerald emptily stare off into space, like she can see her life spiraling right before her very eyes as she rocks back and forth.

Hinata leans down and gently pats her pink head. "W-We know the t-truth, Sakura-san. That's all that m-matters."

"_Why_ . . . " Sakura echos in a mantra, oblivious to the world around her.

Because she knew it. She knew she should've told Naruto to stay away—knew his overbearing presence would inevitably lead her straight into her own grave. She hears the funeral knells chime in the distance; a ringing fanfare playing in prelude to her untimely death.

_'Here lies Sakura Haruno: the embarrassment of KHS'_ the epitaph reads upon her tombstone, where a freshly dug grave awaits six feet under. Her father stands aside, honking into a tissue.

"Nooooo!" Sakura moans, jumping to her feet. "_No_! Absolutely not! This—This is . . . " _So not happening!_ Sakura clutches at her pink tresses, because Karin's right; they need to find who did this, and _why_. Sure, it's just a picture. But a picture is worth _a thousand words_, and _boy_ does that picture say a thousand fucking things!

_And I'm not sleeping with either of them, dammit!_

"Well, this isn't all _that_ bad, right?" Tenten considers light-heartedly with a shrug. "I mean, really, what's so terrible about being involved with Naruto Uzumaki? Isn't that like, a _good_ thing? He _is_ super hot—"

Karin knocks her upside her head. "You _idiot_! That's not the point!" She gestures at Sakura's withering form. "She's already under fire for that dumbass letter—note—whatever the fuck, and the last thing she needs is this _bullshit_. Look around you!" Karin sweeps out an exasperated hand.

Tenten glares, rubbing the back of her head where she was so rudely smacked, but does as she's told. And as she looks around, takes in the suggestive waggling of eyebrows in Sakura's direction, the conspiring whispers, the mischievous smirks and amused sparkle in every eye . . . Tenten swallows. "Point taken."

"Do you think . . . " Sakura chokes out, "Do you think Sasuke-kun saw the picture, too?"

"Of cour—!" Tenten's chirp is stifled by Karin's hand when it slaps over her mouth.

"Who knows," Karin says over Tenten's muffled protests. The brunette squirms under her palm. "and who cares. I highly doubt he gives a shit about _rumors_. The guy's got a new rumor on _his_ ass everyday as it is. I wouldn't sweat it."

Tenten draws a large, air-starved gasp when Karin finally releases her, and then they're both flailing their arms, slapping at each other like a couple of toddlers. (Squabbling as per usual.)

"It'll be o-okay." Hinata adds with a soft reassuring smile, slowly inching away from the catfight. Her pearl eyes glimmer with such conviction that Sakura actually finds herself believing her kind words_, _and she breathes a small sigh of relief.

The bell rings.

༺º༻

The clock hand above Kakashi-sensei's head ticks away lazily; a total contradiction to the knee bouncing anxiously beneath her desk.

The day has really only just begun, and yet she's so desperate to bolt out the door—to make a run for it and never look back at this poisonous school. Because it's far too easy to fall victim to its clutches, every slip up feeding the hungry masses like baby vultures, starving for sustenance. Starving for _gossip_. Even now, as she twists restlessly in her seat, she can feel the spotlight upon her back.

_'Narusaku or Sasusaku: Sakura Haruno, the new baseball bachelorette or easy-lay of KHS?'_

Wh_o _would _do_ something like that? Was this some karmic power brought upon her by the universe, or is it just fun to watch her squirm? It's as if she's an ant. Whereas KHS is a giant, devilish child, holding a magnifying glass above her head as they angle the sunlight onto her face, cackling villainously at her pipsqueak scream when her little body goes up in smoke—with nothing but a tiny pile of ash left in her wake.

Sakura scowls at the thought, dropping her gaze to the blank notebook before her. She's written nothing, not that she really needs to, but the emptiness of the pages echo the emptiness of her heart and she looks across the room—to Ino.

_"I think it might just be best for _you_ that we don't talk anymore. You know, so you don't have to worry about 'cleaning up' after me . . . "_

Well, here she is again: back at square one. However, this time, she _knows_ it's different. It isn't just some silly argument between them—according to Ino, they were really over. Done. Broken up like a two-member band. Thirteen years down the drain. And for _what_—?

Sakura stiffens, spine snapping straight as a pole, when Ino suddenly leans over and _whispers_ something to Sasuke.

_What the_ . . .

For a moment she's completely shook; as far as Sakura knows, Ino has never said a word to Sasuke before. _Never_. Whether because it violates girl-code, or because it's simply out of respect for Sakura's feelings—she's never done so.

(But they're not _friends_ now.)

Betrayal stabs between her shoulder blades like a sharp dagger, twisting and wedging itself deeper with every tick of the clock's hand. Glistening green eyes narrow into murderous slits, and she's not sure whether she wants to cry or scream, but when her bottom lip trembles like an earthquake, she already knows a tsunami isn't too far off.

_Calm down_, she tells herself hysterically, _you can't cry here!_

But gods, she wants to cry. What is she saying to him? Since when does _she_ have the nerve to talk to the baseball captain of KHS, anyway? Of course, it's not like she's laying claim on Sasuke for herself or anything—no, that isn't the point at all. The bottom line is that Ino _knows_ how Sakura has felt about Sasuke for years. _Years! _Now she's just suddenly decided—

Sasuke takes out his phone.

And then her heart drops straight into her stomach.

Because he _passes it to Ino._

The world around her slows until every tick of the clock-hand echos beyond the muffled cotton in her ears. She watches every shift, every inch, every slight movement of Ino's expression as she slowly flashes Sasuke a bright, beautiful smile. Her mouth shapes into two words: _'thank you.'_

And then Ino begins typing something in her own phone, copying information down.

Information—like a number.

_Sasuke's_ number.

At this point, Sakura has stopped breathing and Kakashi-sensei's monotone voice sounds as if it's miles upon miles away. She watches, frozen in horror, in betrayal, in absolute anguish, as Ino politely hands his phone back with a twinkle in her eye.

_He's not my boyfriend_ . . . Sakura chants desperately in the back of her mind. _He's not my boyfriend . . . _

He's not her boyfriend—least of all her friend. But it hurts. It hurts because it's Ino, her _best friend_, and she's doing this on purpose. She _has_ to be. There's no other explanation, no other reason other than to flaunt her glamour in the face of Sasuke Uchiha just to boil Sakura's insides. With teeth sinking painfully into her lip, two elbows come down on the desk before her as she holds her head up with clenching hands on either side of her temples.

_Drip._

Wet, blue ink expands and smudges in its wake when a traitorous teardrop slips from her eye and plops upon the empty notebook beneath her. With trembling shoulders, Sakura holds back the flood of tears threatening to burst forth, biting her lip and cursing the selfish anger blazing in her blood.

Because she has no _right_ to be upset like this. The way she feels is unjustified, unfair—to both Ino _and_ Sasuke. But even so, against her will, treasonous jealousy festers in the darkest corners of her heart. It twists her stomach into knots, and when she pinches her eyes shut, as if the blackness of the back of her eyelids can snuff her self-loathing, another tear escapes.

_Why is Ino doing this? Is she . . . Is she trying to—_

Was this some sick, twisted idea of revenge? A way to get back at her for the words she'd screamed in her face? Call her crazy, but surely _this_ is taking it bit too extreme, even for someone as dramatic Ino.

And what's worse; Ino probably _knows_ Sakura is watching. Wants her to watch, in fact. A front row seat to the show as her _best friend_ zealously swoops in with her perfect blond hair and eyes bluer than any sky to steal the only guy she's ever liked. The only boy she's ever wanted. Bewitching the baseball captain of KHS, playing the seductress like an impious siren.

Out of _spite_.

And although Ino does not share his rank by a long shot, although she is not considered popular by any means—apparently, if him giving Ino his number so _nonchalantly_ whilst Sakura is lucky to even receive a text at all is any proof—then not even Sasuke Uchiha is immune to her beautiful charm.

Nostrils flaring, a sudden flash of anger strikes her like lightening, scorching and perilous. And before she can consider the consequences of her actions, before she can gather her thoughts logically, she's whipping out her phone with an uncharacteristic one-track mind.

After hastily wiping the wetness from her cheeks with an agitated sniffle, her thumbs fly over the keyboard, typing out a single sentence that will surely damn them both.

_'Don't ever speak to me again.'_

She presses send the moment the last word is written, not sparing a single moment's hesitation lest she waver in her courage; hammering the final nail in the coffin of their friendship before she can change her mind.

Glassy emerald eyes look to the back of her best friend's blonde head. And when Ino peeks at her phone from her blazer pocket, Sakura swallows the apprehension blocking her windpipe; gulping what feels akin to a mouthful of glass shards.

But Ino simply slides the phone back in her pocket.

And doesn't spare even a single glance back.

༺º༻

"Did you _see_ her face?"

"Yes! _God_, talk about a headline!"

"So humiliating!"

Three long, dark shadows fall over the table.

Ami and her lackeys freeze in their frivolous laughter to look up—where Sakura stands between Karin and Tenten, arms defiantly crossed, and an accusing glare on each of their faces.

Ami scoffs, exchanging smug looks with each of the other girls at the table before placing her chin in her hand, blinking sweetly up at the tendrils of darkness emanating from the trio. "Well, if it isn't the itty-bitty-titty committee and the Baseball Bachelorette herself." She coos, and the other girls snicker when Tenten and Karin self consciously hug their crossed arms tighter against their breasts.

But Sakura isn't phased. "It was you, wasn't it?"

Ami sneers, the playful lilt to her lips morphing into something wretched. "So quick to blame." With a shake of her short, purple hair, she fixes them with mock disappointment shining in her hazel eyes. "I have to say; it hurts my feelings you would assume I would do something so terrible."

A hand slams upon the lunch table and all the unsuspecting girls startle.

"Shut the hell up, _Ami_." Karin leans forward, palm still splayed upon the table as she narrows crimson eyes behind her thick-rimmed spectacles. Her face darkens with unspoken promise. "Don't think for a second I won't beat your scrawny ass."

Ami scoots back several inches from Karin's increasing proximity, but if she is afraid she does not show it. Instead, the corner of her lips quirk with mischief. "Oh really?" She challenges, a glint in her eyes. "Right here in front of everyone? And risk expulsion?"

With a squeak, Ami jumps when Karin gets right in her face, aligning fiery red with fearful hazel. "_All the more reason_."

"Karin." Sakura warns, laying a placating hand upon her shoulder. The red head remains inches away from Ami's stuttering form, and after a good, tense silence—in which the unspoken deadly message is relayed—Karin straightens up and takes a few steps back.

"I didn't take a fucking picture of anyone, okay?" Ami wipes invisible dirt off uniformed shoulders and smoothes her skirt. "And even if I did, it's not like I would tell any of _you_."

"_You lying b_—" Tenten prowls forward next, fists clenching at her sides in anticipation.

Sakura holds a hand to the brunette's chest, preventing her from advancing any further. Tenten frowns, but when she looks to Sakura, she sees that her green eyes are dangerously fixed upon Ami's complacent expression.

"How do we know you aren't lying?" Sakura's voice is deceptively calm, a gift-wrapped threat, concealing all that is roiling through her body, and all that is threatening to burst at the seams.

But the look Ami gives her is so condescending, it nearly undoes the neat ribbon coiled around her rage. "You're not serious? It's not my fault you and Naruto Uzumaki decided to dry hump each other in the middle of the fucking _hall_—"

"We were not _dry humping_ each other." Sakura seethes through clenched teeth.

"—where everyone could see. _Anyone_ could have taken that picture. Have you forgotten how many people go to this school or are you just that incompetent?"

Ignoring—but not forgetting—Ami's snide remark, Sakura squares her shoulders. "I _know_ how many people go to this school, but I _don't_ know anyone as poisonous as you."

Ami sneers, upper lip curling in a show of bitter resentment. "I didn't take the stupid fucking picture, so get lost _Suckura_."

For a moment, Sakura considers her with hard jade. And as she does so, she thinks that, if it really _were_ Ami, she would most likely boast about her actions rather than lie about it. But she's the most obvious culprit; the only person Sakura can think of doing something as flippantly petty as sharing a scandalous picture with the entirety of KHS.

Around them, everyone surreptitiously watches, pretending to socialize nonchalantly among their peers, waiting with bated anticipation and fleeting glances for the moment someone starts throwing punches.

But Sakura takes this moment to really look around; to observe and lay judgement upon those who look particularly guilty. Suspicious green eyes roam over every head, every deceptive expression—locking eyes with a few who are brave enough to look her in the face.

She startles, however, tingles bursting in the pit of her stomach like scalding fireworks, when she suddenly meets onyx—but his gaze drops instantaneously, so swiftly that for a second, Sakura has to convince herself it wasn't her imagination. She stares openly at him; at where he sits between Naruto and Suigetsu, casually scrolling through his sleek phone. He doesn't look up.

"—got it?"

Blinking, Sakura turns back to Ami, who scowls up at her with unbridled hatred, expression darkening further when she realizes she has been blatantly ignored.

"If it wasn't you, then _who_?" Sakura demands, readjusting her shoulders with fists upon her hips. Karin and Tenten nod beside her reverently, forever and always Sakura's loyal counsel if not her best friends.

Ami looks to her own comrades, perhaps seeking aid, but when they shrug and shake their heads uselessly, their leader can only roll her hazel eyes before fixing Sakura with a glare. "How am _I_ supposed to know? You think I keep tabs on you? News flash, _Suckura_: the moment you threw that love letter at Sasuke-kun's head was the moment you put yourself in KHS's bingo book. Did you really think something like that would be of no consequence?"

Ami shakes her head in mock despair before continuing, shrill voice sugary sweet.

"And now your . . . _escapade_ with Naruto Uzumaki. You should know by now every girl in this school is willing to tear you to shreds." The corner of her mouth quirks in amusement. "But I'm happy for you, really. Where you were once a nobody, a nothing; at least now you're a _something_." Ami and her friends cackle deviously before she clarifies with a smile: "An _embarrassment_."

Sakura takes a moment to inhale; breathing in a wave of calm to quell the vicious anger crackling deep within. But taming her wrath proves to be a tedious task, considering just how awful Ami can be when she _really_ wants to get under someone's skin. No matter if Sakura is the bigger person, no matter if Sakura wants nothing more than to slap the wicked smile right off her mouth; the words slice their way into her heart like a serrated knife and she takes it in silence all the same.

She feels the menacing aura of Karin and Tenten at her side, knows they too are holding their tongues. Because despite Ami's terrible, spiteful speech, Sakura knows there's a bitter truth to her words. She knows very well what she has done—not intentionally, of course, but that changes nothing. Now, every girl in KHS believes she's not only trying to steal the captain, but also the heart of the catcher himself. They now regard her as a serious threat; an obstacle in every girl's path to not only destroy, but maim and dispose of _permanently_.

Alas, Sakura has completely ruined her reputation; tainted it beyond repair and now, she must prepare for the repercussions; however awful they may be.

So Sakura tosses her pink hair over her shoulder with a huff, squaring her shoulders and aligning her posture with a newfound spine as her fiery spirit flickers to life—roaring with fortitude inside the hearth of her soul.

Because there's no way in hell anyone's going to get away with this. She will not go down without a fight—no matter how many vile pranks or rumors or stunts that attempt to knock her on her ass—like a Phoenix, she will rise from the ashes over and over until KHS comprehends just _who_ they're messing with.

(And if this means war?)

Then this means _war_.

_Shannaro!_

༺º༻

Sakura marches down the hallway to her locker, disregarding the way students hurriedly step out of her warpath in fear of being trampled upon. But as she storms her way down the corridor, she passes the KHS bulletin board—and stops dead.

Slowly, she turns, anger whittling at her insides as she takes in the bold sight before her with prickling, narrowed eyes.

Push-pinned to the cork surface of the board, several copies of _the_ picture—of she and Naruto sharing mortifying proximity—clutter every inch of the surface, along with bright red marker that reads _'Baseball Bachelorette'_ on every single photo. Sakura's fingernails dig into her palms where they curl into shaking fists. She stomps over to the board, and in her unbridled fury, claws down every single one of them, ripping and tearing several of them down the middle and through the sides before throwing them to the ground where they litter the linoleum in a pile of shreds.

_It isn't fair_, she thinks as she tears apart the last photo and lets it flutter heedlessly to the floor. She knows people are watching; laughing and tittering mischievously behind her back, preying on her misfortune like vultures as she stares up at the now barren bulletin board. And as her eyes drop to the floor, where the carnage of her wrath lays scattered upon the tile, she locks onto the tiny shred of what remains of a single photo.

It's her own viridian eyes that stare beyond the image, shy gaze looking past the jagged edges of the picture where Naruto should've been; where he had been viciously ripped from the photo.

A pinch in her heart tugs the edges of her mouth into a deep, guilty frown. It's not his fault. In fact, it's nobody's fault but her own. And as she curls disquieted fingers around the cotton material of her skirt, she knows it's too late to dwell on her mistakes. If someone wants to make her life hell, fine. But it's going to take a hell of a lot more than a misleading picture and a plethora of rumors to sink her ship.

So with pursed lips, Sakura swivels on her heel and continues the way to her locker as if nothing is wrong—donning a mask of determination as she pumps her legs forward, chin up, allowing every whisper around her to fall upon deaf ears.

Inner Sakura cracks her knuckles, because now, she's gonna milk this school and its toxicity for all it's worth.

_Look out KHS, the Baseball Bachelorette has stepped up to the plate. And you bet your ass I'm gonna hit a home run. CHA!_

༺º༻

She doesn't see him.

Which works perfectly in his favor because he really has no obligation to interact with her at all—Biology partner or not. _Especially_ not here at school where everyone bears witness to his every move; where he is watched and observed and judged from every corner at all times. And so he merely watches this girl from a safe distance across the corridor, leaning cooly against the wall.

It's the end of the day and, with arms crossed, he waits impatiently outside the classroom door for his best friend to wrap up his after-class _discussion_—as Naruto had so exuberantly put it—with Kurenai-sensei about his failing Literature grade so that they can head to practice together.

But they had seemed to be taking their sweet time, and as Sasuke tapped his foot with a scowl, patience thinning with every passing minute, it was only then, through the sea of sniggering students, that he saw her outlandishly pink head of hair. (Not that it was hard to miss.) Watched as she flounced through the hallway like a vicious solider, plaid skirt bouncing in her march, yellow ribbon whipping behind her like a war banner, and students jumping out of her way as if she were a bowling ball hurtling in their direction.

Having lost interest immediately, he had just been about to push off the wall and barge into the classroom to tell Naruto to hurry the hell up, when Sakura had suddenly froze in the middle of the hallway. With a double take, he watched as she went still as stone. But with her stiff back to him, he had no idea why she had stopped, or what had caught her attention so completely that she felt compelled to stop dead in her tracks. Like she were stuck on pause while the rest of the world resumed around her.

Now, he doesn't know why he watches, and he certainly doesn't know why this in particular catches him off guard; but it does, and so he relaxes back into position and continues to observe curiously.

Slowly, her head turns to her left.

In the busy halls, Sasuke takes heed of several students cackling at her expense, laughing at her for some reason or other. He doesn't know why, nor does he care to find out, because KHS is a school of gossip. A world of its own in which its inhabitants are wild animals—full of immature hellions that have nothing better to do with their infinitesimal lives other than to make people suffer.

Sasuke knows this because he has experienced first and foremost the worst of it all.

The moment he stepped foot into this school was the moment he became someone else entirely. Not by his own definition, and certainly not by his own accord, but rewritten by others who took it upon themselves to slander his name left and right. Try as they might, but never has a whisper gone unheard by Sasuke himself. And for every flattering rumor, there are one hundred hideous lies.

It's a shame they're all too afraid to say it to his _face_.

He is pulled from his grim thoughts when the girl with pink hair begins to move once more. With curled fists, she stiffly walks forward. And it's only then that Sasuke sees what has captured her full attention.

She stands before the KHS bulletin board, tilting her head up at what appears to be dozens of identical photos plastered to every bit of its surface. Sasuke squints, but even with his impeccable eyesight and the distance from which he stands, he cannot make out the pictures' contents.

He blinks in genuine surprise, however, dropping his arms to his sides and lightly furrowing his brows in confusion, when she suddenly starts ripping them all down—shredding them over and over into pieces and throwing them all over the floor in a whirlwind of outrage. Again and again, she tears them apart, sometimes in twos or threes, but she doesn't stop until every single photo is irreversibly destroyed and stripped bare from the wall.

Her shoulders rise and fall quickly in the aftermath of her tempestuous fury, and she lowers her head as if examining the shambles of wreckage at her feet.

"_—total mess. Looks like the Baseball Bachelorette has finally flipped her lid. What a freak._"

Sasuke snaps his head to the pair of students who nonchalantly pass by, narrowed black eyes following after their retreating backs.

_What_ did he just say?

By the time Sasuke looks back to the bulletin board, Sakura has disappeared. Startled, he looks left to right in bewilderment. How the hell did she move so fast? When she is nowhere to be found, he hastily pushes off the wall and elbows his way through the straggling students just in time to see Sakura strutting away; retreating down the hall with a strange pep in her step that has him questioning the rage he saw literally moments ago.

He remains there until she is gone from his sight, standing immobile in the middle of the hallway, ignoring the mixture of odd looks and crooning heart-eyes of those who pass him by.

Then, he turns to the bulletin board and approaches it carefully, wondering what could _possibly_ be so horrible—so terribly offending that she feels the need to rip up the community board like an angry paper shredder. He picks up two of the several fragments strewn on the floor, holding them together and trying to match them like jigsaw pieces, frowning when he sees two diagonal halves of Sakura's face torn, and a portion of an unfinished sentence in bold red marker that reads: '_Baseba_'

He keeps one piece, tossing the other carelessly to the floor, and picks up another, only for his eyes to narrow suspiciously when he sees _Naruto_, of all people, in the second half of the torn photo. With the rough match, he aligns the two fragments and his eyebrows raise slightly in disbelief.

And with both pieces aligned, the picture is undeniably clear.

_'Baseball Bachelorette'_

"Whatcha' doin'!" A strong arm hooks around his neck and Sasuke chokes when he is yanked roughly to the side.

Within seconds, Sasuke shoves him off with far more strength than necessary, hissing darkly, "Don't touch me."

Naruto belts out a wild laugh when he catches his balance, unbothered. "Oh, come on! Don't be such a grouch, you bastard—eh?" He blinks down at the floor before stabbing a finger at the mess. "What the hell did you do that for!?"

"I didn't, you dumbass." Sasuke scowls. "Sakura did."

"_Huh_?" Naruto scratches his blond mop of hair, and Sasuke swears he can see the rickety wheels turning inside his head. "Sakura-chan?"

Ignoring his idiocy, Sasuke looks to the two pieces in his hands. "What is this?"

"What is what?"

"_This_." Sasuke snaps and shoves the photo in his face. Aligning the pieces side by side, he watches as the blond scrunches his face in deep confusion before the light bulb finally goes off.

"That's me and Sakura-chan!"

Sasuke closes his eyes in exasperation, reigning control of his patience before he can backhand his best friend across the face. He reopens his eyes with a glare. "_No_, idiot. What the hell is a . . . _Baseball Bachelorette_?" Even the words sound strangely foreign on his tongue.

Naruto frowns, scratching at his whiskered cheek. "How should I know?" Then, his blond brows furrow heavily when something else seems to click. "_Hey_, where did you get that anyway? Why do you have a picture of me and Sakura-chan? That's really creepy, you know. Even for you—"

Sasuke looks down, glaring daggers at the floor and Naruto follows his gaze.

The penny drops.

Azure eyes nearly pop out of his skull when the blond bends down to scoop up a handful of ripped photos. "_Huh_!? What the hell is this?!" He roars, voice ricocheting throughout the halls like thunder. "Why are there ripped pictures of me and Sakura-chan all over the flo—?!"

Sasuke slaps an angry palm over Naruto's mouth. "_Shut your mouth_."

Onyx eyes narrow warily, shifting left and right, shooting deadly glares at those who openly stare. They quickly avert their gaze. He has no idea what this picture is, or what it means, but whatever it is, it can't be good. And then Sasuke wrenches his hand off Naruto's mouth when something hot and wet touches his palm. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" He snarls, wiping the slobber off his hand in disgust.

Naruto wipes his mouth with the back of his sleeve and grins impishly. "That's what you get, you bastard."

"Never mind _that_." Sasuke sneers, and when his anger quickly sobers, he lowers his voice and asks carefully, "Did you know anything about this?"

"No." Naruto replies seriously. "I don't understand. Why would someone take a picture of us and write _that_ on it?"

_My thoughts precisely_, Sasuke ponders, bringing the two halves of the picture back together, studying it a little closer.

"Why do you care anyway?"

Sasuke stiffens immediately, all curiosity snuffed by the blunt irrationality of such a question. "I don't."

He tosses the ripped pieces to the floor as if they've caught fire, shoves his hands into his pockets, and pivots on his heel down the hallway before the dumbass can ask anymore stupid questions.

Because of course he doesn't care. He was just curious as to why she had to go and tear down an entire bulletin board like a rabid animal. The girl is an enigma, smarter than most, and a great catcher—he'll give her that. But she's annoying and that's all that really matters in the long run. And just _why_ is Naruto not the least bit concerned that his face is plastered onto one hundred scandalous photos?

"Oi! Slow down! _Hey_—!"

Ah. That's right.

Because he's an idiot.

"_Sasukeeeeee_!"


	11. Chapter 10

**A/N: Aye, a triple chapter update~ Again I apologize for delayed update. School is a bitch and i'm dead inside. I probably won't be updating as often, but I hope you enjoy what I can dish out at the moment. **

**~CAPTAIN!~**

**CHAPTER 10**

༺º༻

"—the hell are you talking about?!"

"—fucking way, man! Are you serious right now?"

"Well that's . . . certainly troublesome."

"When did this even _happen_?"

The sporadic deep voices of the KHS baseball team drift to her ears as she makes her way to the field just before practice; the nearly indistinct words laced with incredulity and rage. With Tenten, Karin, and Hinata only a few steps behind, Sakura throws a look of confusion over her shoulder at her friends. They each exchange looks with a shrug before Sakura turns back to the ruffled scene just ahead.

The boys all crowd around the base of the bleachers, just before the opening to the dugout. Despite being dressed in uniform, obviously whatever has happened has stalled them from practice, resulting in them loitering about and tossing around colorful profanities.

Apparently, Sakura and the girls are the first ones to arrive as Ami and the rest of the KHS explicit 'fan club' are nowhere to be seen.

They pause only a few feet away from the team, hesitating to approach any further when Suigetsu suddenly slaps his hat none too gently in the dirt and angrily tussles his silver hair. "Fuck!"

Sasuke stands with his back to the girls, but Sakura can discern by the lowering of his head that he's mostly likely pinching the bridge of his nose the way she has come to attribute to habit—a gesture he makes when he's particularly annoyed. She notes that he is the only one without his baseball cap today, messy spikes poking out the back of his head carelessly.

And as she glances around, taking in the torn features of the baseball team, a knot of apprehension twists her gut when she takes note of Lee's absence.

Because Lee _never_ misses practice.

"Sakura-chan!" She flinches at her name bursting out of Naruto's mouth like a shotgun when his eyes find hers. But contrary to his usual cheer and blinding smile, he simply fixes her with a half grin, as if he's doing his best to smile at her—and failing miserably.

"What's going on?" She asks tentatively, daring to approach the team until she stands just before them. Sakura's friends follow but remain silent as shadows behind her, quietly observing and feeling out the situation for themselves. She doesn't blame them, because as all eight of the players turn to acknowledge their presence, Sakura sees the broken, foreboding look upon each of their faces. "Is everything okay?"

"No, everything is _not_ okay." Suigetsu frowns deeply, rubbing irritably at his forehead. "Everything is not okay."

Neji's pearl eyes study the ground, Kiba focuses on controlling his breathing, Shino remains silent, Naruto's fists clench in restraint, and Sasuke merely stands unmoving; unreadable.

But an eerie smile lifts Sai's thin lips. "It's an unfortunate happenstance."

Sakura supposes that's the extent of Sai's empathy. She gasps, however, bringing both hands to her mouth when a vicious shove from Kiba nearly knocks the artist off his feet. Sai stumbles backward several steps, clearly taken off guard by the sudden ferocity in his friend's slit eyes, and before he can even right his footing, Kiba is in his face. Wolfish features twist in disgust and the red triangles marking his face scrunch with a sneer when his sharp canines flash dangerously, lip curling like a rabid dog ready to tear into a carcass.

"An _unfortunate happenstance_?" He growls angrily, and shoves Sai once more for good measure. "Do you even fucking hear yourself sometimes?"

It's only when Kiba begins to flex his fists that the other players finally attempt to step in, intercepting before he can start throwing fists. The girls can only watch in muted horror as the scene plays out before them.

"Dude, chill out!" Suigetsu, Shikamaru, Shino, and Neji grab at Kiba's shoulders, roughly hauling him backward. He quickly shoulders them off with a snarl but doesn't further his advance, settling on leveling Sai with a murderous glare.

Sai blinks inky black eyes in confusion, disgruntled by his friend's actions—as if he genuinely has no idea what could have set him off and is unable to comprehend the severity of the situation. He swipes imaginary dust off his stark white uniform and adjusts his baseball cap, eyebrows furrowing when his strange smile falls into a frown. "Perhaps you are overreacting."

At this, a feral sound escapes Kiba's throat and he makes another lunge for their palest player, but the guys all latch their arms around him and Naruto pits himself between the two, palms out, azure eyes wide. "Stop! You need to stop—!"

"_Enough_." Sasuke intervenes darkly, the snap of his silken voice an octave lower in warning. Sakura shudders at the command, knees pushing together.

(It's a wonder how he can sound both terrifying and alluring all at once.)

"What do you think happened?" Tenten whispers hesitantly behind Sakura's left shoulder. But before she can even think of a reply, Shikamaru's voice slices through her thoughts; calculated and calm. His expression nearly rivals Sasuke's in its apathy, dark eyes scanning the faces of his comrades without a lick of emotion. Only the slightest cinch in his brows betray what Sakura assumes is frustration beneath.

"It can't be helped." He shrugs with a single shoulder, hand deep in the pocket of his baseball pants. Then, he releases a long drawn out sigh and a silver earring glints in the sunlight when he gives a slight shake of his head in defeat. "There's nothing we can do now. Arguing won't fix anything, and fighting about it is more trouble than it's worth."

"What _happened_?" Sakura takes a step forward, bringing a hand to her chest with worry. She tries not to shrink in fear when eight intimidating pairs of eyes suddenly meet her gaze head on. She tries even harder not to glance at Sasuke, who she sees narrowing his eyes at her in her peripherals.

She's prying, she knows. But she has always been somewhat fond of Lee—with his ridiculously thick eyebrows and steadfast cheer, he was fun to watch and an even easier person to respect. Not to mention he was a fantastic outfielder—unrivaled, even. The Green Beast was notorious for his captivating speed and skill. KHS without Lee would be akin to flowers without rain; hopeless, inadequate, and _honestly_ a little depressing without his striking optimism lighting up the field.

(Where would KHS be without his youth?)

In the tense silence that follows her question, she chews the bottom of her lip and nervously fidgets where she stands.

"It's none of your business." Sasuke hisses suddenly, taking her by surprise.

Sakura whips her head toward him, heart stuttering when she locks onto his hard black eyes. And as she acknowledges him finally, glancing over his icy features, she thinks she has seen friendlier faces on rabid raccoons. "Sasuke-kun—"

Naruto breaks through her soft plea, exploding with fire and snatching Sasuke by the uniform collar, yanking him to meet face to face. "What the hell did I tell you about being nicer to Sakura-chan, asshole! She just _cares_—!"

Sakura's mouth pops open in astonishment.

_He told Sasuke _what—?

"_Get off me_." Sasuke shoves Naruto backward so hard the blond stumbles, crashing into Suigetsu and Kiba where they steady him before they themselves can fall over. But Naruto rights himself immediately, eyes ablaze with a crimson fury Sakura has only seen once before.

"I think w-we should head back." Hinata reasons quietly, just loud enough for the girls to hear. The blatant fear in her soft voice has Sakura turning to console her, but Tenten's nod of agreement has her holding her tongue.

"Hinata's right." Tenten affirms, warily watching beyond Sakura's shoulder—to the boys who look two seconds away from murdering each other. "I think it's time to, ya know," She jerks her chin back toward the school twice with insistent eyes. "_Skedaddle_."

"I'm fine right here." Sakura pouts.

_Oh, no._ She's not leaving today. After the day she's had, she's going to stay right here and spend as much time with the baseball captain as he'll allow _because they're supposed to work on their project today and there's no way she's going to abandon him! _(Never mind the fact that she's done it once already.)

_Besides, what's the worst that could possibly happen?_

Tenten and Karin share an uncertain glance.

"We're just gonna . . . " Tenten shoots a thumb over her shoulder.

"We'll see you later, Sakura. Good luck." Karin whispers with a reassuring pat on Sakura's shoulder.

"Forgive us, S-Sakura-chan."

And then the three of them scuttle away.

_Traitors!_ Sakura puffs her cheeks in agitation as she watches her friends candidly abandon her—leaving her naked to the wolves. Slowly, Sakura turns back to the baseball team with a crooked, twitching smile.

But none of them are even paying attention.

Instead, the entire team is preoccupied with holding Naruto back from attacking and ripping apart their captain limb from limb. Everyone shouts over each other, practically dog-piled on top of one another as they struggle to hold back the blond, who bucks like a wild animal in their arms.

And even as Naruto thrashes recklessly, jaws snapping with a slew of insults and outrageously detailed threats, Sasuke remains immobile, uncaring, eyes closed with a bitter scowl and hands buried in his pockets.

Sakura sighs.

"You guys."

"—AND I'LL RIP THAT STUPID FUCKING SCOWL RIGHT OFF YOUR FACE—!"

"—you don't calm down I will drown you—"

"Hold him _tighter_—!"

"I'M HOLDING HIM AS TIGHT AS I CAN! WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO DO, KILL HIM?!"

"You _guys_."

"Perhaps that would be helpful—"

"_NOBODY_ asked you, Sai—!"

"Whoever has their fucking foot on my back—!"

"—STUPID BASTARD, YOU BET YOUR ASS I'LL—"

"_Who just touched my ass_—?!"

"YOU _GUYS_!" Sakura screams, and her voice echoes across the entirety of campus, all the way to the fringe of trees where birds flock in fright to the cloudless sky.

Eight pairs of eyes blink at her.

She flushes pink and brings a slender hand to her mouth, far more startled with her sudden outburst than they probably are. Heart pounding, she clears her throat and rubs her palms together in her lap to hide her trembling fingers. "I—I don't know what happened, but you shouldn't argue like this. You're a team, right? And more than that, you're friends." She offers a kind smile, attempting to stifle the quiver in her voice. "S-So let's not fight, okay?"

With sudden inhuman strength that he has somehow been holding back this whole time, Naruto flings everyone off as if they're merely rag dolls. The team groans when each of their bottoms hit the solid ground with a painful thud. Oblivious, the blond assumes a valiant stance, holding out a fist in resolution and a giant grin stretching across his face. "You're absolutely right, Sakura-chan! Friends shouldn't fight, no matter what! Right, guys?!"

Naruto turns his twinkling eyes to the team expectantly, but his smile drops into a frown when he sees them all splayed upon the dirt, rubbing their behinds with a few curses and clambering to their feet.

Sakura's smile twitches at the corner.

Then, she braves a glimpse at Sasuke—at the indifference sculpting his handsome face like stone. He casually looks beyond the field, pretending none of them exist with insulting ease. But despite his aloof exterior, as she's slowly beginning to recognize and understand the closer she observes, his eyes tell a different story. And no matter how hard he tries to hide it, whatever plagues his mind surfaces to those pools of obsidian; emotion rippling across the windows of his soul as clear as day.

But it isn't just there, she realizes, with fire burning in the depths of her loins the longer she takes him in. It's in the slight narrow of his eyes, and the way his brows nudge together incrementally. It's in the downward curve of his lips—imperceptible to anyone except someone like Sakura.

Something clicks.

"You're worried about him." She tells him firmly, and behind dark bangs, Sasuke's eyes snap to hers. "You're worried about Lee."

The sudden intensity of their eye contact stokes the fire blazing inside of her tenfold. Because for one, he is unnecessarily attractive. And for two, there's something about the way he looks at her that has her trembling where she stands. Like he's not looking _at_ her, but _within_ her. Searching her emerald eyes carefully, considering her deeply. A riddle he can't solve.

And then suddenly, it's as if _he_ knows that _she_ knows, somehow, without words. That behind the icy walls of his heart and detached facade, despite the way he treats him sometimes, Sasuke really _is_ worried about his youthful, silly friend.

Like opposite ends of a magnet, they hold each other's gaze, powerless to look away.

He shifts uncomfortably, mouth opening to perhaps fire back a retort or denial, but Naruto rudely slices their infinitesimal moment in half.

"I am too, Sakura-chan!" The blond whines, arms crossed in a childish pout. He throws a spiteful glare in the captain's direction. "Who cares what _Sasuke_ thinks. He doesn't even like Lee, anyway! He's probably secretly happy he's in a coma—"

"_What_!" Sakura gasps, green eyes blown wide with horror. Both hands fly to her mouth where she shrieks through her fingers. "A _coma_?!"

The entire team sighs sadly, a disheartened cloud of gloom hovering just above them. Sasuke closes his eyes in defeat, running a stressed palm through his unruly dark locks. Her heart sinks.

"Sasuke just got the call fifteen minutes ago." Shikamaru explains wearily.

Sakura splutters, a million questions twisting on the tip of her tongue. And after several moments of struggle, glancing over each of their miserable faces, she chokes out a single word. "_How_?"

"Car accident." Suigetsu responds quietly, amethyst eyes glued to the ground.

"From what we heard, it is not good." Says Sai.

"The impact was . . . messy. From what were were told, both of his legs were broken." Neji adds, grimacing. "Even if he wakes up—"

"_When_." Kiba corrects with a snarl. "Are you fucking kidding m—?"

"—_When_ he wakes up, it'll be a long time before he can even walk again."

There's a heavy, mournful silence in which none of them are brave enough to break it, save one.

"He'll be _fine_." Sasuke insists coldly, glowering at the depressive state of his team. Though Sakura gets the feeling he's really just trying to convince himself. "Dwelling over it is a waste of time. What's done is done. And nothing can change that."

"Sasuke-kun . . ." Sakura laments softly, eyes sloped with gentle understanding. "It's okay to be upset—"

"I am not _upset_." He snaps icily, defensively, whipping his head towards her and firing a lethal glare her way instead. She jumps as if his eyes stab her; chills skittering down her spine at the unexpected hatred she sees in them. "It's unfortunate and we're down a player. But it's not as if he's _dead_."

"You are such an asshole, dude." Suigetsu mutters with a disbelieving shake of his head, swooping down to pick up his forgotten, abused baseball cap. He dusts it off and fixes it upon his head, straightening it neatly.

Something dangerous flickers across Sasuke's obsidian eyes at the brazen insult, but it's gone in a blink. He adjusts the duffel bag slung upon his back with a scowl. "Let's get going. We've wasted enough time as it is."

Sasuke turns to make his way to the dugout when a sudden hand clamps upon his shoulder. He bristles. "What the hell are you talking about?!" Naruto barks behind him angrily, blue eyes aflame. With a dark, threatening frown, Sasuke returns an electrically charged glare over his shoulder just before wrenching the blond's hand off him.

"_How many fucking times do I have to tell you not to touch me_—"

"WE CAN'T PLAY WITH EIGHT PLAYERS!" Naruto screams, and Sasuke flinches away—not from his preposterous volume, but from a volley of spit.

"Naruto has a point." Shino agrees quietly, and despite the conflict, Sakura jerks her head toward him, blinking in bewilderment.

_I'm pretty sure that's the first time I've ever heard him talk!_

Shino falls silent once more, eyes mysteriously hidden; unreadable behind two black circles.

"Well, shit!" Suigetsu groans, clutching at his baseball cap and grinding his sharp teeth together. "What the fuck are we supposed to do now?"

"It's far too late for try-outs." Neji agrees, jaw taut.

"And we're only a number of weeks away from quarterfinals." Shikamaru analyzes, fingers stroking his smooth chin. "Perhaps there's some way around it . . . " Everyone anxiously watches the calculations flit behind his coal eyes because if anyone can think their way out of a complex situation as dire as this, it's Shikamaru.

After a few more moments of suspenseful contemplation and tense silence, Shikamaru blinks as if he's reached a conclusion.

There's a collective inhale in anticipation—

"We're screwed." He says simply.

—and it wooshes out of their lungs in an instant, defeated.

"So now _what_?" Kiba moans indignantly, dropping his head back in exasperation and closing his eyes against the bright sunlight.

"We find another player, obviously." Sai offers with a light-hearted smile.

"And just how are going to do _that_, genius?" Suigetsu snarks, firm hands on his hips. "You really think we're going to find a replacement in the middle of the season? Not to mention a replacement as fast and efficient as _Lee_. He's the Green Beast, dude. How many people do you know are as fast as him?"

That shuts him up.

"Okay, so we just have to find the next best thing!" Naruto chirps with sudden high spirit, smacking a determined fist to his palm—clearly unperturbed by the seriousness of their situation. Then, he thumbs his tan chin in thought. "We'll need someone who can catch . . . Someone fast . . . Someone quick on their feet and even quicker with their reflexes . . . Someone like . . . "

There's a heavy pause in which the team share questionable glances. And then, when the unanimous lightbulb goes off, ever so slowly, eight heads turn—to look right at _her_.

Her heart stops.

Oh, _hell_ no.

"Sakura-chan!" Naruto exclaims delightedly at the same time Sasuke scoffs: "_Absolutely not._"

Sakura splutters wildly, heart thumping against her chest like a war drum. Is he crazy?! She can't even walk four paces without tripping over her own two feet! Not to mention she's never even stepped foot on a baseball field before, let alone played a game!

_I've never even held a bat!_

"C'mon you bastard!" Naruto whines, latching onto the captain's uniform with shimmering puppy-dog eyes. "She would be perfect! You saw her catch! You've seen how fast she is—_right_, guys?! Right?!" He releases Sasuke (before he can be clocked in the face by his moody best friend) to gesture at the other guys, desperately prompting their backup; perhaps testing where their loyalty lies. "_Right_?!"

The team shifts uncomfortably, eyes darting between the petite, five-foot pink haired girl in knee-high socks and the deadly malice radiating off their captain in spiraling wisps of darkness.

"Um, wait I—!" Sakura frantically fingers the hem of her skirt, bouncing from one foot to the other in her blatant distress. Heat fills her face, dusting every inch of her cheeks with pink. They _can't_ be serious!

If someone like _her_ joined the baseball team, the entirety of KHS will riot. Because _never_, not in the entire history of Japanese baseball, has there _ever_ been a girl on an all-male team. They might as well spear her between the shoulder blades and roast her like a rotisserie chicken over an open flame—she can just _taste_ the controversy.

Especially now that someone's gone and labeled her as the _'Baseball Bachlorette' _(whatever the hell _that's_ supposed to mean) and everyone's out to rip her to shreds; joining the baseball team would be the ultimate suicide.

_Or_ . . . Inner Sakura whispers deviously.

_The ultimate revenge. _

By joining the team, she could potentially regain her pedestal, earn back the respect of KHS and throw it all back in their faces. That _she_, Sakura Haruno—the nobody, the joke of KHS—was chosen by the most elite, popular guys in school to join the actual _baseball team_.

She stops her thoughts right there and mentally shakes her head, banishing the ridiculous idea immediately.

_No! What the hell am I thinking? There's no way this could work! I've never freaking played baseball in my entire life! Besides, it's not like any of them will _actually_ agree with Naruto anyway—!_

"But she's a girl." Sai concludes casually. "Girls are bad at sports."

Sakura pauses in her derailed thoughts to bristle, opening her mouth to tell Sai _just where he can shove it—_when Neji, to her absolute surprise (and horror), comes to her defense.

"If she can make catches like she did the other day," Ghostly pearl eyes meet emerald. "I see no problem in letting her join the team."

Sakura gapes at him. _That catch wasn't even on purpose! Even I don't understand how I managed that! _

"Yeah that catch was pretty sick." Kiba agrees nonchalantly, closing his eyes and tipping his head back. His hands fold casually behind his head just beneath the bill of his backward baseball cap. "You've got my vote."

Her palms slick with sweat, glancing between Kiba and Neji incredulously. Behind her ribs, her heart pumps faster with every passing moment.

_They're really serious—!_

"I say let Pinky join the team." Suigetsu purrs, shrugging with a wicked tilt to his mouth that churns something inside her stomach. Then, his purple eyes burn into hers with wanton challenge. "I'd _love_ to see what you're made of."

Sakura flushes furiously, mind exploding into a thousand different directions as she tries to piece together just _what the hell is happening right now_. Anxiety rocks her whole body like an earthquake, waves of conflict splintering any sensible train of thought.

"I am indifferent." Shino offers softly.

"As long as you're not too troublesome," Shikamaru gives a lazy, half shrug as if he isn't sealing her fate. "I'm in."

Kiba cracks an eye open to flash her a playful, wolfish smirk. "Guess that means you're our newest player, sweetheart."

Her heart plummets to her feet.

"_Yes_!" Naruto jumps with glee, eyes bursting with excitement as he pumps a triumphant fist in the air. And with the jubilance of a child on Christmas morning, he scurries over to Sakura and wraps strong arms around her waist, scooping her right off her feet as if she were a stuffed animal. "You're going to be a part of our team, Sakura-chan! This is _awesome_!" He twirls her around in mindless circles, deaf to Sakura's squabbling protests—

"No."

Naruto pauses with Sakura in mid-air, paying no heed to the fact that she's nearly choking on her attempt to breathe underneath arms that are squeezing the air out of her lungs. Blinking in confusion, he slowly sets her back down and she gasps when her feet touch the ground—bringing a hand to her chest as she hysterically catches her breath, wobbling dizzily before she can appropriately right her footing. (He _really_ doesn't know his strength, does he?)

"Huh . . . ?" Naruto breathes, blond brows furrowed.

The entire team turns to their captain.

Sasuke's face remains unreadable as he repeats icily, ruthlessly—a concrete syllable that leaves absolutely no room for argument, "_No_."

Naruto splutters indignantly, "What the hell do you mean '_no_'?!"

"She's not joining the team." Sasuke fixes Sakura with a look so hostile that her eyes widen. "Not now. Not _ever_."

Like the glinting blade of a freshly sharpened katana, his rejection pierces through her heart—unexpected and merciless. She sucks in her lips to keep them from trembling, not really understanding why it even matters in the first place whether he wants her to join the team or not, because it's not like she was going to agree _anyway_.

But does he really have to be so _mean_ about it? As if his rejection isn't enough, he has to go and pour salt in the wound; unnecessary and cruel.

_Perhaps, he is as heartless as they say, after all . . ._

"Come on, man." Suigetsu jokes half-heartedly, though the prevalence of his hesitation is embarrassingly obvious. Like he _knows_ Sasuke's temper is on thin ice; knows his captain isn't playing games. _But_ . . . "Just give her a chance. Let her try-out or something, yeah?"

Sasuke closes his eyes impatiently, a twitch feathering in his tight jaw.

"I bet with a little practice, she'll be even better than you!" Kiba dares to snicker.

Sasuke's fists clench.

"Sounds like someone's afraid of being outdone." Shikamaru taunts carelessly. "I thought you were better than that."

Sasuke's teeth mash together.

"Scared of a girl, Uchiha?" Neji purrs.

A volcano ready to erupt—

"Yeah, what the hell is your deal?!" Naruto bellows, "Why is everything _always_ a fucking issue with you? Your shitty attitude is getting real old! What's so wrong with Sakura-chan that—!?"

"_Because she'll just fucking hold us back!_" Sasuke explodes, obsidian eyes snapping open with a roaring flame. Sakura gasps when he gestures aggressively at her terrified form. "Because she's an immature, idiotic, annoying fucking _girl_!"

A blanket of stunned, heavy silence falls over them, save for his brutal last words echoing across the skies as Sasuke slowly registers what he's just said. He blinks as if he's genuinely startled by his own outburst, and when a sniffle breaks the pulsing silence, everyone warily looks to Sakura.

She stands rigidly, head bowed forward. Pink hair spills over her face, hiding her viciously clenched teeth and furious tears sparkling in the corners of her eyes. Her tightly balled fists tremble at her sides, restraining the anguish that twists so terribly inside her. Like poison, his cruel words burn through her veins and singe her soul until she feels as if her chest is collapsing in on her, burying her heart along with it.

"I—" Sasuke starts uneasily, but is cut off by a single, trembling whisper.

"_You_ . . ." voice small and threatening to break under the weight of her grief, Sakura is beyond words.

Because how _dare_ he? What crime has she committed against him—what has she done so terribly, horribly, _unbelievably_ wrong that justifies the things he's just spat in her face? She has shown him nothing but kindness, and even if he read a _stupid_ piece of paper, it isn't enough to rationalize this ridiculous, unjust grudge that he seems to so vehemently hold against her.

It isn't fair. It isn't right.

And it is definitely _not_ okay.

Suddenly, as if the thought ignites a blaze of perseverance deep within her soul, she lifts her head. Emerald eyes dark with conviction and shimmering with unshed tears meet Sasuke's stunned gaze head on. And through gritted teeth, she shakily bites out: "You know _nothing_ about me. You can say those things—you can call me idiotic, you can call me immature. Hell you can call me every name in the book, if you really wanted." She takes a heavy step forward.

Suddenly, she wishes Ino were here to witness this—to see the way she's sticking up for herself just fine without her. And without Ino always trying to fight her battles, Sakura finally, for _once_ in her life, has the chance to fight her own.

"But don't you call me annoying_, _Sasuke-kun. I may be obnoxious, maybe a bit over-emotional at times, but from what I've seen, not even _you_ are perfect all of the time. You might be mad at me, or whatever it is you feel justifies _this_—" She gestures vaguely to the invisible grudge tethered between them, "And you might not like me, Sasuke-kun, but . . . you don't have to be so goddamn _cruel_ about it!"

Despite the agonizing tightening of her throat, despite the intensity of which the air fizzles between them with her angry words, despite the horrorstruck expression on every player's face as they watch this five-foot girl berate Sasuke Uchiha like she's his _superior_—she plows onward, desperate to be heard.

"And don't think for a second that just because I'm a _girl_ that I can't play just as well as you. In fact, I'll join your freaking baseball team. And you bet your ass, with a little practice and some hard work, I _promise_ I'll be the best damn player you've _ever_ seen—_SHANNARO_!"

A passing breeze whips the pink strands across her courageous face. Her chest heaves wildly, back straight, shoulders squared, fingers trembling—adrenaline running rampant through her body as she stands up to the baseball captain of KHS.

To Sasuke Uchiha.

To the only person she has ever wanted to accept her.

All falls quiet. Even Naruto has slipped into an eerie silence. Several pairs of eyes flick nervously between Sakura and the Uchiha; holding their breath in anticipation as they swivel their heads left to right, waiting anxiously for someone to make the first move.

And then, suddenly, quiet but firm: "Fine."

Sakura blinks, sniffling back her tears and slackening her shoulders, unsure if she's just heard him correctly. "Huh?"

Sasuke turns his back on her, flaunting the bold '**UCHIHA**' across his shoulder blades arrogantly. A reminder of his status—of his prestige.

A reminder that, if he so wished, could ruin her life with the pull of a few strings and the snap of his fingers.

Ignoring the thick disbelieving silence of the entire team as they watch him, slack-jawed, he says simply, "Prove it." Then, he shoots her an indecipherable glance over his shoulder, mysterious eyes glistening with something strange behind his dark fringe. And when the edge of his lips suddenly twitch upward with the ghost of a devilish smirk, Sakura's heart nearly explodes. "Grab a bat."

Her eyes widen.

The reality of what she's done—of what she's just so fiercely, adamantly promised as if her life depended on it in the heat of the moment—hits her like a bucket of ice to the face.

"If you can hit the ball," twisted amusement dances behind onyx eyes. "Then you're on the team."

With that, he makes his way to the dugout and Sakura's mouth pops open.

"Let's go Sakura-chan!" When she doesn't move from her spot, frozen with dread as one thousand thoughts spin through her head like a cyclone, Naruto bounds over happily and takes both of her wrists, tugging her along. "C'mon!"

_Fuck_.


	12. Chapter 11

**A/N: I was really hesitant about these last few chapters but fuck it lmao. **

**SOUNDTRACK**

Two steps from hell - Unbreakable (Thomas Bergersen - 2019) "Dragon" - at 0:57, right when Neji hits the ball.

**~CAPTAIN!~ **

**CHAPTER 11**

༺º༻

How many times has she watched him play?

How many times has she swooned over his legendary pitches like a lovesick puppy; daydreamed about the way his strong body moves, the way his muscles coil in anticipation, the way his dark eyes hone in on home plate like a hawk? How many times has she memorized the way the strict focus cools his expression like a glacier and lights his eyes like a sultry flame?

Far, far too many times to count.

But _now_—as Sakura stands to the side of home plate, trembling like a leaf in the wind, metal bat heavy in her hands, weak arms quivering with the combination of dread and unfamiliar territory—Sasuke's challenging eyes directly across the field is nothing short of _terrifying_.

Because _now—_as her stomach tightens with apprehension, as Sakura swallows back the lunch she had been barely able to touch as a result of today's earlier events, as her wide green eyes trail across the field and take note of every player on the team tensed with anticipation and watching her with keen eyes and shameless curiosity—she thinks she might just keel over and die.

And _now_, as her eyes follow the intimidating, hypnotic bounce of the ball in Sasuke's hand—_up, down, up, down, up, down_—she also thinks she'd have a better chance of survival giving a bubble bath to a starving grizzly bear.

_Just what in the absolute hell was I thinking?! Oh gods, oh shit, oh fuck me sideways—_

"_Relax!_" A reassuring whisper jolts her from her fantasy of a quick_,_ merciful death. Green eyes glance down at where Naruto crouches just to the side of her, behind home plate, azure eyes shining with hope through the cage of his helmet as he looks up at her. The white of his confident smile only makes her cringe harder. "_You can do this, Sakura-chan!_"

She swallows thickly, sweat beading the back of her neck and clinging to her pink hairline. Adjusting the bat in her slick palms, her heartbeat gallops in her eardrums, blood pulsing like a turbulent river.

She most definitely can _not_ do this.

"Are you ready?" Sasuke calls impatiently. Sakura snaps her head toward him with another heavy gulp, shuffling her feet anxiously in the dirt. She crouches awkwardly—attempting to mimic the way she has seen them do so many times before.

"Uhhh—just uh, just one more second!" She scrambles for more time; to procrastinate as much as possible before Sasuke can throw a deadly fastball at her face.

"_Spread your feet a little more_." Naruto instructs her quietly_. _She does as she's told and she puts a few more inches between her right and left foot uncertainly.

"Like this?"

"_Perfect!" _He praises, and when he finally realizes how much she's shaking, his brows cinch in worry. He looks to Sasuke. "Oi! Take it easy on her, okay?!"

The captain narrows his eyes with a scoff. "If I have to take it _easy_ on her, then she's not cut out for my team."

"You can do it, Pinky!" Suigetsu cheers from far out left-field, oblivious to her misery.

"If you can make this hit, I'll take you on a date!" Kiba hollers through cupped hands, and even from this distance, she can make out the suggestive waggle of his brunette eyebrows.

Neji and Shikamaru exchange wry glances across the field, unamused.

Shino is silent as death, and Sai simply smiles as if that's exactly what he's programmed to do.

"_Hey_!" Naruto bites angrily, "If anyone's gonna take Sakura-chan on a date, it's gonna be _me_—!"

For a moment she forgets who he is—forgets that he's _Naruto Uzumaki_—in light of her embarrassment and, blushing furiously, face as scorching as the sun, Sakura delivers a firm kick to the blond's strong thigh and chides harshly, "_Nobody's_ taking me on a date!"

"Ouch, Sakura-chan!" He howls dramatically, drawling out the syllables of her name like a four year old child. He nurses his leg with the hand that isn't stuffed in a baseball glove. "What the heck was that for—!?"

"Are you _ready_, or _not_?" Sasuke's deep warning cuts through Naruto's whine like steel. Suddenly, butterflies explode inside her stomach when she is reminded of what is to come. Reminded that, Sasuke Uchiha, the fastest pitcher in KHS history, is about to hurl a ball _at her face_.

"_No_." She croaks helplessly.

Sakura carefully readjusts her position, angling the bat unfamiliarly above her shoulder like she has seen Sasuke do before, and lowers into an uncomfortable crouch.

_See you soon_ . . .

Behind her, Naruto flashes Sasuke a signal.

. . . _Mom._

And when Sasuke nods, recoils, ball to glove, glove to chest; Sakura shakes so terribly that her teeth chatter inside her mouth. Adrenaline zips through her blood, both hot and cold chills bursting like fireworks everywhere inside her—her stomach, her chest, her arms, her legs—she's going to die. She's going to die. She's going to . . .

_Please . . . Have mercy on me Sasuke-kun. _

Sasuke's arm winds back . . . and then he fires away with a powerful flick of his wrist.

And when the ball flies toward her at lightning speed—

Sakura loses it.

She pinches her eyes shut and screams, swinging the bat with all her might, twisting her entire body like a corkscrew—the ball hits Naruto's glove in less than a second, but her body follows through with its reckless momentum—

The bat slips from her sweaty hands and flings rapidly through the air like an out-of-control propeller; twirling round and round and _round _and—

—hits Sasuke right in the stomach.

"_Sasuke-kun!_" His name rips through her throat in pure horror over the explosion of laughter—courtesy of the rest of the team—when Sasuke hits the ground with a howling curse. Hands flying to her gaping mouth, eyes blown wide, she gasps. "Oh my god!"

Before she can stop herself, her arms and legs are already pumping wildly across the field to the pitcher's mound, where Sasuke lays upon his back, doubled over, writhing in agony. Laughter continues to riot all around them, cackling like hyenas at the fallen state of their mighty captain.

Even _Neji_ is puffing in laughter.

"I'm so sorry, Sasuke-kun!" She cries when she's just shy of closing the distance, "I'm so sorry—I'm so sorry—I'm so sorry I'm—_UUAH_—!"

She trips over her own two feet and flops clumsily onto him.

Air punches out of his lungs when her elbow slams into his already abused gut, and when she struggles to get off him, frantically scrambling to spare him mercy—Sasuke rips off his glove and swiftly snatches both of her wrists_. _

Using her arms as leverage, he thrusts her light torso upward until he's holding her just above him, terrified green eyes meeting pained, wincing onyx. A long curtain of pink hair dangles forward, spilling around either side of both their faces, shielding them from the mortifying, endless laughter.

"Are you okay?" She whispers, pert nose inches from his.

Glaring up at her, he opens his mouth to fire back a retort—when something suddenly flashes across his eyes, stilling him completely. She blinks down at him behind long lashes, green eyes boring into his own.

He blinks back up at her, onyx eyes widening ever so slightly at whatever he's seeing—at whatever is making him look up at her like _that_.

"Sasuke-kun?" She breathes, her own eyes widening. A deep blush fills her cheeks, face hotter than the sun.

And when her heart violently smashes against her rib cage, suddenly, she's all too aware of the wanton way she's straddling his hips, leaning over him intimately; the realization of their proximity as if they're a whisper away from a kiss.

And with her pelvis pressed firmly against his—only a breath of consent away from something _else_.

Liquid heat pools between her legs, electric butterflies dancing along the seams of her lower belly. The warmth his body radiates seeps through the thin layer of her undergarments, and it's all she can do not to squirm.

His warm breath puffs against her lips—fast, as if he's struggling for air despite the fact that only half her weight sits upon him. And with a shield of pink hair surrounding them, it's as if the world disappears around them; shrinking away until only Sasuke and Sakura are left staring silently back at each other in absolute confusion.

The riotous laughter fades into nothingness, and only the precious fragility of their moment remains.

Sakura swallows as she carefully breaks away from his searching, smoldering eyes to trail over his face. Inches from her, he is breathtaking. Flawless. But above all—he is perfect; otherworldly in his effortless splendor. She takes in the high of his cheekbones, the cut of his sharp jaw, lips that look softer than any rose.

And his _eyes_—

When her eyes meet his once more, it's clear that he is so uncomfortable that he isn't even capable of words. But he doesn't _move_. He just _holds_ her there, above him, completely bewildered. He doesn't push her off—doesn't do anything to put distance between them.

And so neither does she.

They stare back at each other, unblinking, unsure; so whole heartedly trapped in this moment where, somehow, there is only the two of them and nothing more. Under his strong grip, her wrists burn as if his fingers are flaming shackles, holding her prisoner to his touch—holding her steady above him.

"What the fuck are you guys _doing_?!"

Naruto's incredulous voice shatters their world into a thousand pieces and they both startle forcibly as if caught red-handed doing—well, whatever it was they were _doing_.

As if Naruto's voice was key to breaking his spell, Sasuke snaps out of it, releasing her wrists and scrambling on his elbows out from under her, dragging his strong body across the dirt like she's just burned him.

Sakura falls back on her rear unceremoniously, still red from the tips of her toes to the roots of her hair.

Jumping to his feet, Sasuke frantically wipes the dirt from his now tarnished uniform—slapping at the fabric with far more ferocity than necessary to dust himself off.

Sakura continues to gape up at him, a shy finger to her full lips, unable to comprehend what just happened—if anything—before Sasuke fixes her with a glare so dark that she stiffens with a gasp.

"_Get off my field._"

༺º༻

"Hey!" Naruto protests angrily, throwing his gear off and marching over to them with all the intention in the world of punching the living daylights out of his best friend. "What did you just say?!"

Onyx eyes never move from hers. "You can't hit a ball—get off my field." He stabs a finger over yonder, not caring which direction he's pointing as long as she _gets off his goddamn field_. "Now!" He barks when she doesn't move, and the commanding voice he only reserves for his team causes Sakura to jump in fright and clamber to her feet, nearly falling over in her haste to stand.

His neck and ears burn red like hot coals, so flustered and angry with himself that he let this—this pink-haired _girl_ embarrass him in front of his own team that he can't even think straight. But if there's one thing he _does_ know, it's that this girl cannot hit a ball.

And in this moment driven by anger, he doesn't care if a little practice would polish her skills, doesn't care if she's probably never played baseball in her entire life—he doesn't _care_ about anything other than the fact that she's just mortified him.

On her feet, Sakura stands rigidly, scared to death of his sudden change in demeanor. And for a split second, a twinge of guilt twists his chest at the look on her face—fixing him with wide green eyes as if he's just turned into a ferocious beast. Her chest heaves beneath her worried hands, sheer panic eclipsing her usually soft features.

(Clearly, she isn't used to being bossed around firsthand by the baseball captain.)

He realizes, by the genuine terror on her face, that perhaps he shouldn't have been so harsh—no matter how angry he is. Realizes that she does not know him well enough to understand the authoritative role he must take on when he's on the field, and that it's only habit that he raises his voice.

But the fury encasing his wounded pride overrides everything else and he doesn't let himself think about it.

He buries the guilt before he can do something crazy—like _apologize_.

Naruto stands before him now, ready to swing a fist. Sasuke doesn't cower, of course, because it's not like the loser could land a hit if he tried. So when Naruto _does_ make a swing, Sasuke simply swoops his head to the side, cleanly dodging an iron fist, and watches as the blond stumbles when his reckless momentum carries him forward.

The other players have now gathered around, though he's sure more out of amusement than any kind of concern, as this is typical behavior between the captain and his best friend. What isn't typical, however, completely out of place, is the pink-haired girl still staring at them wide eyed.

With a frustrated snarl, Naruto quickly rights himself before spinning on his heel to no doubt try and attack once more.

"Just wait till I get my hands on you, Bastard, you'll be sorry—!"

Dodging another fist from the idiot, this time from behind, Sasuke merely side steps and lets Naruto fall stupidly forward.

"Hit him with the chair!" Kiba jokes as if it were a wrestling match, egging them on with no sense of shame. "The chair!"

"Shut up, _Dogbreath_!" Kiba howls in laughter at Naruto's lame excuse for an insult, and he only laughs harder when the blond aims for him next. Kiba jumps out of the way with a hooting cackle, and Naruto smashes into an unsuspecting Sai, who had been standing just behind the brunette, instead.

Sai flies backward when Naruto's fist meets his jaw, sliding along the dirt in wake of its impact.

"Touchdown!" Suigetsu cheers, and when Kiba hops over to him, they waggle their fingers together. "_Nice_."

"Wrong sport, you halfwit." Neji grumbles.

Sakura startles with a gasp. "Sai! Oh my god, are you okay?!"

Sasuke's eyes snap to Sakura, where she jogs over to Sai's side and kneels next to his wincing form. On her knees, her uniform skirt flares outward upon the dirt and her white knee-high socks are probably stained.

But for some reason unbeknownst to Sasuke, soiling her uniform doesn't seem to phase her. He doesn't know much about girls (not that he'd ever admit this), but he knows enough to tell a high-maintenance girl from a low one when he sees it.

Clearly, Sakura doesn't mind getting a little dirty.

He mentally adds this to the growing list of attributes he has unconsciously started the day she threw that godforsaken note.

As Sai sits up, her slender hands latch onto his forearm, eyes shining with genuine concern. Sai rubs his jaw and blinks at her, inky orbs darting to where her hand rests upon his green under armor. "Of course." He says as if he wasn't just falcon punched in the face. "This is called horseplay."

Sakura stares at him, befuddled. "What?"

Sai's lips curl up in delight and his next words sound as if he's reading straight from a dictionary. "A form of enjoyment more commonly known as roughhousing—"

She shakes her head. "No, Sai, I _know_ what you meant, it's just—your _jaw_—"

"He's fine." Shikamaru shrugs. "Happens all the time."

Sakura snaps her head to him. "Excuse me?"

"Getting punched." He clarifies nonchalantly, tilting his head to the sky, bored as ever. "Happens all the time."

Sasuke watches her fluster, eyebrows furrowing as she looks between all of them. "You guys just—just _punch_ each other all the time?"

"Only when they deserve it!" Naruto nods in agreement with himself. And then he directs an angry, vulpine scowl at Sasuke. The blond flips him an offensive gesture. "Like this bastard right here. _He_ deserves to be punched more than anyone."

Sasuke scoffs, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. Whatever.

"Oh." Sakura says slowly, as if that's all the explanation she needs. But Sasuke knows she must be confused, if the quirk of her pink eyebrows have anything to say about it. Then, she offers Sai a hand and with one swift tug, she helps him to his feet. When the artist straightens his baseball cap, she has the audacity to try and dust him off.

"What are you, his _mom_?" Suigetsu scoffs incredulously. "It's just dirt, Pinky."

Sakura bristles before sending a glare in his direction. Her red cheeks puff in defense, embarrassed. "Stop calling me that."

"Or what?" The slimy, suggestive smirk spreading across Suigetsu's face is nothing short of devious. "What are you gonna d—_ow_!"

Shino—_Shino_ knocks him upside the head. "She said stop."

Sasuke closes his eyes and sighs heavily, allowing the anger to escape through his lips and leave him with only mild irritation. He's not sure how much more of this idiocy he can take.

"Um . . . Sasuke-kun?"

He stiffens, eyes snapping open. Why is she still here? He shouldn't have to tell her a _third_ time. He frowns and meets her gaze steadily. "I thought I told you to get off my field."

"No." She pouts, crossing her arms in a show of disobedience.

"_No_?" He echos, voice deceivingly calm as he bristles, making sure to inject as much malice into the single syllable as possible. What the hell does she mean _no_?

"My hands were too sweaty and the bat slipped by accident." She sniffs, boldly jerking her chin away from him. "So it doesn't count."

His eyebrow twitches when her sudden attitude stirs a blaze of anger inside him. He knows he shouldn't let her get under his skin, so it makes him even angrier when he realizes she's made him _angry_ in the first place. He nonchalantly strides right over to where she stands, effortlessly concealing the fury inside him, and towers over her.

Slipping his hands in his pockets, he leans down until his face levels with hers, aligning fierce onyx with surprised green, and whispers darkly: "Says _who_?"

She gasps, cheeks blooming pink at his sudden proximity and silk-wrapped threat. A flash of panic glints across her eyes. But then, suddenly, as if she sees right through him—green orbs flickering over his face with realization, her eyebrows cinch and she frowns with a rage of her own.

"Says _me_." She bites back, hands firm on her hips. She dares to lean even closer, eyes narrowed. "I know what you're _doing_, Sasuke-kun. But you're not going to scare me off. I already told you I just need some practice. I made a promise, and I intend to keep it."

He blinks, because that _certainly_ isn't the reaction he was expecting.

Scowling, now uncomfortable with how close she is to his face, his spine snaps straight until he's peering down at her again. It's only then that he realizes how short she is; the top of her head just reaching the tip of his chin. And with her glaring up at him, cheeks puffed, hands perched upon her curved hips as if she's _actually_ trying to intimidate _him_—

The corner of his lip twitches.

Stifling a dry, disbelieving snort, he has to wonder: is she really trying to tell _him_ what to do? On his own field, no less? There's no way she's serious. But then again, this girl—_Sakura_—is so outrageously unpredictable it's nauseating. Constantly changing direction, her moods are going to give him whiplash.

Sakura must take his silence as an answer, because she continues.

"Let me try something else! I'll get it next time, I swear it!" Her eyes shine like emeralds in her determination, and suddenly Sasuke cannot tear his eyes away. "Just give me another chance," And then as an afterthought, averting her green orbs shyly and wringing her hands, she politely adds: "Please?"

She blinks innocently up at him from under thick lashes, a splash of pink painting her cheeks.

He takes a step backward—away from her.

How strange she is, he thinks. Truly; to be so terrified of him one minute and then barking orders at him the next, and then—and then _this_, whatever the hell _this_ is. Looking up at him like . . . _that_.

He doesn't understand.

"C'mon, just give her another shot." Kiba says lazily, interrupting the captain's internal confusion. "The girl's got guts. I say she's earned it." He turns and jerks his chin upward at Shikamaru. "What do you think?"

Shikamaru looks to Kiba silently and then turns to regard Sakura and Sasuke. After a moment he shrugs and lifts a brow at Kiba. "Why are you asking _me_?"

"You're the one with the brains." Kiba replies casually. "Should he give her another shot or not?"

"Oh, _for the _love_ of_—!" Naruto groans when what little patience he has is depleted. "Just let Sakura-chan play! You're burnin' daylight, here! You're always yelling at us for wasting time and yet here you are, being a big fat _hypocrite_!"

"Careful Naruto, that's a big word." Suigetsu says, and then neatly ducks when Naruto takes a swing at him.

Sasuke grits his teeth before opening his mouth to tell them _no_ for what feels like the _hundredth time_—

"_Please_, Sasuke-kun?" Sakura clasps her hands together with hope, eyes twinkling.

Sasuke looks her up and down carefully. Narrowed dark eyes journey from the dusty dress shoes on her small feet, up to her dirt smattered knee-high socks. His gaze lingers a smidgen longer on her bare thighs—thighs that straddled his hips just minutes ago—before traveling up to her rumpled plaid skirt, up and up until pleading green eyes meet his own.

He swallows. Something in his gut tells him that this is a very, _very_ bad idea.

But then he looks to the rest of the team. Looks to all eight faces waiting eagerly for an answer.

Sighing in defeat, finally, Sasuke pinches the bridge of his nose.

"Last chance."

༺º༻

"Catch, Sakura-chan!"

The baseball glove slaps the dirt at her feet before Sakura even has a chance to move. She stares down at it.

"Are you right-handed or left-handed?" Naruto grins when he returns from the dugout, where he had so graciously found a spare, used glove to sacrifice to her cause. Sakura bites her lip.

"Right-handed." She slowly picks up the glove and holds it in the air between her finger and thumb as if it's a pair of dirty underwear. "Um—"

"Here," Without warning, Naruto grabs her wrist and pulls it toward him. She blushes in surprise at the unexpected contact. With her hand outstretched, he opens the glove pocket wide enough to slip it over her dainty hand. "It should fit you okay. It's used, but it's not nearly as bulky as the other ones." When it's snug on her hand, he laughs light-heartedly. The sound brings her no comfort. "You have such small hands, Sakura-chan!" She can only manage an awkward smile. "How does it feel?"

She wiggles her fingers in the glove experimentally, eyebrows furrowed and lips pursing at the strange leathery texture. It isn't nearly as heavy or uncomfortable as she thought it would be. But still . . . "Weird." She gives her hand another flex and the leather bends stiffly with the movement.

Naruto claps a hand on her shoulder a little too roughly and Sakura has to hold back a wince. "Well you're all set! Now go out there and show us what you got!" Then, he leans in, a sly grin creeping across his face when he cups a hand to his mouth and whispers. "_I know you can do it, Sakura-chan. You go out there and make that bastard eat his words._" After a moment, his eyes crinkle with a smile as he adds cheerfully. "No pressure though!"

Sakura gulps.

Yeah, sure Naruto. No pressure at all. It's not like she's _trying out for an elite position on the _**_KHS baseball team_**_ while the most powerful, most popular, most superior guy in school decides her worth based on her performance. _

She can already hear the audience booing.

_'If you can catch the ball,' _Sasuke's smooth proposal floats across her memory. '_you're on the team.' _

_'No questions asked?'_

_'No questions asked.' _

Sakura wonders for the hundredth time in the span of twenty minutes why she's doing this. Why she's putting herself through this nightmare—why she agreed to do this in the first place despite already knowing she has zero experience, zero skill, and zero coordination.

Not to mention she's so out of shape that merely taking the short flight of stairs at school leaves her breathless. (She's had to hold her breath more times than she can count just so people don't think she's a lazy fat lard.)

Of course, Ino has tried getting her into shape dozens of times. Always on par with the newest trends, Ino had somehow successfully dragged her along to every class the blonde could find, jumping with excitement every time she saw a new local advertisement. Including, but not limited to: Hot Yoga, Kick-boxing, Pilates, Dance Cardio and Spin class.

And of course, Ino was always a little _too_ focused on the sexy male instructors to even learn anything. Not that Sakura blamed her. A number of them _were_ incredibly hot. Tan, beautiful, and rippled with muscles, Sakura and Ino often found themselves sharing secretive, knowing glances whenever the hunky instructor would walk by and speculate their form. Ino always made a show of pushing her rear out a little farther in hopes he would take notice of her perfectly round rump. It never failed to make Sakura giggle uncontrollably. Especially when it turned out the instructor was gay.

_"I swear he was totally into me!"_ Ino would claim over smoothies afterward. She would angrily slurp from her straw at the unfairness of it all. _"His eyes never left my ass! What a damn tease—Hey! Stop laughing, Forehead, you were into him too!"_

Smiling at the memory, a pang of dread tugs her smile into a frown. A rolling thundercloud of guilt and sorrow rumbles above her head, a cold rain of realization soaking her heart. No more exercise classes. No more smoothies. No more checking out hunky men that are twice their age and betting which of them can get his number first.

No more Ino.

"—Sakura-chan?"

Naruto's confused call slips through her inner muse. She snaps at attention, thundercloud dispersing. "R-Right! Sorry!"

By now, Kiba, Suigetsu, Shino, and Sai all stand on the sidelines—her very own peanut gallery. Waiting patiently for Sakura to fulfill the promise she had stupidly made. Naruto crouches at home plate, glove ready to snatch Sasuke's fireball of a pitch, and Neji stands off to the side, bat blithely twirling over his shoulder as he adjusts his position. The Hyuuga bends his knees and lowers into a perfect stance.

_Of course_ they would have the second best batter (Naruto's definitely first—his strength is seriously something else) on the team hit the ball that she's expected to catch.

On the pitcher's mound, Sasuke arrogantly cocks his head toward her, dark locks falling messily over his eyes. "What are you waiting for? Get to centerfield." He demands impatiently.

Suddenly, Sakura remembers _exactly_ why she's doing this.

Because it will feel absolutely _divine_ when she shows Sasuke Uchiha just what she's made of—his face will surely be priceless, a sight all of KHS would _pay_ to see—when she happily demonstrates what an '_immature, idiotic, annoying fucking _girl' can achieve with just the right amount of _inspiration_.

He probably thinks her weak; useless to their cause and a waste of their time.

And if there's one thing in the entire world that motivates her, it's being underestimated. (And boy, did Sasuke pick the _wrong_ girl to underestimate.)

She might not be able to hit a ball—She might be uncoordinated and unfit and clumsy and everything that Sasuke hates.

But she's fast as fuck, and she knows it. And maybe that first catch was an accident, but somehow, she still _did_ it nonetheless. So all she has to do is find that within herself again. Find that courage, that strength—_whatever_ it was that took hold of her that day and manifest it into something she can control on command.

All she has to do is set her mind to it and believe in herself. No matter how impossible the feat may seem.

The thought ignites a fire inside of her, reminds her that she's _Sakura Haruno_. And Mom taught her to be a lot of things—but a quitter ain't one of 'em. With that, she puffs out her chest and let's a smirk dance on the edge of her lips. A dangerous glint flashes across her emerald eyes.

Sasuke lifts an eyebrow at her bizarre change in attitude.

_I'll show you, Sasuke-kun!_ She telepathically screams at him. He stares blankly back. _You just watch!_

Sakura nods in approval with herself. Then, she spins on her heel in the dirt and marches to the beautifully green outfield where she stands smack dab in the center. She turns around and shouts through cupped hands, smiling. "Ready when you are, Sasuke-kun!"

Over his shoulder, Sasuke stares at her for a moment before shaking his head in exasperation. _If you say so_, he says without saying anything at all.

When he turns back around, Sakura sticks her tongue out at him. _Yeah, yeah, judge all you want, O' mighty captain! You big grouch! I might like you, but you're not exempt from being schooled! Watch and learn, Uchiha!_

Now, Sakura shakes with adrenaline instead of fear, wired up like a spring loaded pistol and anticipation threatening to pull the trigger. She crouches slightly, mimicking once again the players she has admired for so long, and punches a fist to her glove. Her heart thrusts against her rib cage, blood pumping through her veins and filling her with an exhilarating high.

After a moment of calculating silence, Sasuke performs his art as usual—ball to glove, glove to chest—and thrusts his body forward with all the grace and power in the world.

Neji twists his torso, swipes his bat through the air in a perfectly effortless swing—

_Clank! _

Ball meets metal with a sonic boom.

Sakura _bolts_.

With hell on her heels, she zips through the grass like lightning, yellow bow and skirt fluttering like the wind in wake of her valor, shoes clomping against the earth with the force of a thousand horses. In this moment she pushes her whole body and soul to its limits—and then beyond.

Like a bird, she breaks free from her cage.

_'Because she'll just fucking hold us back!'_

She lets Sasuke's disdain fuel her—lets his scornful, cocky attitude and complete dismissal drive her forward until she's unstoppable.

Lets his doubt awaken the warrior inside of her.

_'Because she's an immature, idiotic, annoying fucking _**_girl_**_!'_

_Huff, puff, huff, puff_—her chest heaves, lungs protesting, screaming at her to _stop_—

Sakura runs _faster_.

She runs faster than she ever has in her entire life.

Against the darkening sky, the ball is a mere pinprick of shadow. But even as Sakura propels herself forward with the swiftness of a cheetah, even as the world blurs by her at breakneck speed, she doesn't lose sight of it. Over her shoulder, still running as fast as her legs can take her, green eyes hone in on the ball, never once letting it out of her sight as it soars through the sky and ever closer.

_'She's not joining the team. Not now, not _**_ever_**_.'_

And then the other voices ring inside her head, echoing in her ears right along Sasuke's. She hears the laughter; the _snickering_ and the _whispering_ and the _cackling_.

A footstep for every whisper. A footstep for every laugh. A footstep for every person who belittled her.

More fuel to her fire.

_Faster!_

As the ball descends in its arch, Sakura gets ready. She thrusts her arm outward, glove outstretched—eyes never once leaving the ball as it draws closer . . .

And closer . . .

_' . . . _**_annoying_**_.'_

_And closer . . . _

"I got it!" She huffs excitedly, boarding on disbelief. "I got it! I got it! I got it!"

And then she leaps.

_Are you watching . . . _

For Mom, who she knows is cheering her on from above.

For Ino, who she knows would be so proud of her were she here.

For _herself_.

_. . . Sasuke-kun?_

She pushes off the earth, springing forward until she's completely airborne, soaring, pink hair whipping in slow-motion around the pure joy she doesn't even know is on her face, the giant grin stretching across her cheeks; lost in the thrill of the chase. Lost in the high of proving everyone _wrong_.

Because she isn't a _nobody_.

Because she isn't the girl who _threw a love letter at Sasuke Uchiha's head. _

Because she isn't the _Baseball Bachelorette_.

She's Sakura Haruno, the girl who's gonna make KHS history and the girl who's gonna join the baseball team all on her own.

_SHANNARO!_

The ball hits her glove.

She flomps onto her stomach with an audible _oof!_, the brutal landing knocking the wind right out of her lungs as slides across the field. Body splayed gracelessly in the grass, arm still outstretched, Sakura has to blink several times to make sure she's not dreaming.

And that the ball really _is_ in her glove.

After the tenth flutter of her eyelashes, it doesn't disappear.

She shoots up into a sitting position, expression awash with incredulity as she stares down at the ball, gasping with a mix of adrenaline and exertion, still unable to comprehend her accomplishment.

"_HOLY SHIT, PINKY!_" Suigetsu screams, silver eyebrows disappearing completely under his bangs.

"I KNEW YOU COULD DO IT, SAKURA-CHAN!" Naruto cries, azure eyes glittering with a million twinkling stars. "I knew it!" Then, he whirls on Sasuke, who is gaping—_gaping!_—at her, "_HA_! In your face you dumb prick!" Naruto turns around, hands on hips, and jovially shakes his rear at him.

As if Sasuke does not even register the blond's obnoxious existence, wide, _wide_ onyx eyes continue to stare at her in utter disbelief.

(Hurry, everyone, take pictures while you can!)

Inner Sakura snaps thousands of pictures from every angle, and then throws all of them up into the air like a firework of revenge, cackling with glee as they rain down all around her.

He gapes at her like he hadn't even considered the possibility that she would _actually_ catch it. That's why he had _Neji_ bat. Naruto would have been too easy on her, whilst Neji wouldn't have held back. That's why he decided on giving her another chance, despite how much he _despised_ the idea of her joining his team.

Because he truly thought_ she wouldn't be able to do it_.

And it's so worth it. It's so worth the look on his face and the astonishment in his normally indifferent eyes. Pride floods her chest, warm and fuzzy and so _proud_—she beams as bright as the sun.

The rest of the team cheers for her across the field, merrily chucking compliments her way; _'great job!' _and_ 'amazing!'_ and _'way to go, Sakura!' _filling her heart to the brim.

As rowdy and wild as they are, they sure are encouraging when they want to be.

Sakura makes her way across the field to the pitcher's mound—where she stops just short of Sasuke.

And with a shit-eating giggle, still huffing wildly, Sakura looks up at him, meets his still widened eyes, and tosses the ball back.

"Your move, Captain."

༺º༻


	13. Chapter 12

**A/N:** Sorry, I know, I know. Pls forgive me for long wait. AS ALWAYS, thank you to **Alice** for being such an amazing fucking editor. ILYSM. Also your incredible reviews are genuinely what makes me so happy and seriously makes such a difference. I'm not gonna sit here and tell you I refresh 10 times a day to see if there's a new review or anything, aha aha . . . (_IRefresh10TimesADayToSeeIfTheresANewReview) _AHEM, You guys totally rock and make me smile like a lunatic. I'm just saying, thank you all so much for the love ksjdhsajkhda (sends e-hugs)

_-This message has been approved and sponsored by Sloshi. __And now back to our regularly scheduled program . . ._

**~CAPTAIN!~**

**CHAPTER 12**

༺º༻

Sakura stands before him; five-foot-nothing, one-hundred-seventeen pounds of pure will, and a torch in her eyes.

Sasuke stands before her; six-foot-even, one-hundred-thirty five pounds of pure strength, and a marvel in his eyes.

When he remains silent, Sakura's eyebrows flick up in expectation.

"_Well_?" She prompts, hands firm upon her hips.

"You're . . . out-of-shape," he manages to choke out, "but that was—"

_Exceptional_, he is just about to say before Sakura cuts him off with a disbelieving gasp.

"Out-of-shape?!" She splutters, jaw nearly dropping at his stubborn arrogance. A mental cinderblock smashes upon her head._ That's all he has to say after that?! _"_Out-of-shape?! _Well," Sakura sniffs, unable to help herself, "you certainly seemed _'out-of-shape'_ when you were panting like a dog against my lips earlier, holding onto me like some _pervert_!"

Sasuke blanches.

_"Ooooooo!" _The boys sing unanimously in mischief, crowding together. Delighting in the show, their heads swivel back and forth as the drama unfolds before them.

(Is that popcorn she smells?)

Completely stiff, ignoring her ludicrous accusation, Sasuke fires back the first thing that comes to mind in defense. "That's because you're heavy."

Sakura bristles as Inner Sakura erupts in flames, cracking her knuckles. _Oh, I _know_ he did not just call me FAT!_

"_Yikes_." The boys flinch. Clearly, Sasuke could stand to learn a thing or two about women—you _never_ poke fun at a girl's weight. Rookie mistake number one.

The team anxiously looks to Sakura.

"_Ugh_!" Sakura groans in frustration, clutching at her pink tresses. Then she stabs a finger at his chest, jabbing him forcefully with every next word—not giving a mother-loving _fuck_ if he's the baseball captain of KHS. "You. Are. _Impossible_!" The last jab nearly makes him stumble, lightly flailing his arms to keep balance under her unexpected strength. "I caught your stupid ball! I did exactly what you told me to do! No questions asked, _remember_? Why can't you just—" Sasuke blinks at his glossy reflection in her eyes, at the angry tears burning them several shades darker.

Then, to his genuine surprise, she deflates. "Forget it." She says quietly, dejectedly, like he's just doused the flames of her soul with a bucket of water. "I'm going home."

"Sakura-chan! _No_!" Naruto cries, horrified at the very idea. "You _can't_ leave! You caught the ball so you're on the team! That was the deal! Right, Bastard?!" When Sasuke doesn't answer, Naruto's fists curl in warning. "_RIGHT_?!"

"That _is_ what you said, Sasuke." Shikamaru says carefully, a surprising bitter note to his monotone voice—as if he's actually a little disappointed in the dishonesty of his captain, should he not keep his word.

The rest of the team is quiet, puzzled by Sasuke's mysterious silence. It dawns on them that it's a real possibility that he might _actually_ turn her away; dawns on them that the Uchiha's pride might just get the best of him after all, and that his ego will end up screwing the whole team in the end. It's a hard pill to swallow. The reverence the team holds for their captain threatens to waver in his hesitation.

Because no matter how Sasuke tries to play it off, Sakura, without a doubt, has earned her spot on the team—epically, at that. She caught a ball that most definitely should have been considered a home run. And if it had been a real game, and they had been losing, that catch would have saved their asses.

Sakura turns on her heel, ready to march on home and beat the living crap out of her pillow in frustration—

"Sakura."

—and _freezes_.

His dark voice seizes her whole frame. She stands frozen in step, eyes blown wide, unable to move.

A jolt of exhilaration clangs through her body at the sound of her name rolling off his lips for the first time.

Soft and smooth, like rich winding velvet; his voice cleaves through her dark cloud of disappointment like a golden ray of sunlight. Sends warmth spiraling through her veins, her chest, her lower belly. The way he says it, the way he drawls out the first syllable of her name and finishes with the roll of his tongue as if he's saying _'Sa-ku-da'_—

How many times has she dreamt of her name on his lips?

How many times has she imagined that voice rasping her name in her ear, lost in the throes of ecstasy?

She closes her eyes, willing the ache between her legs to recede. Why does he have to sound like that? Why does he have to sound a thousand times more sultry in real life than in her most naughtiest dreams?

_It's so unfair._

(But, all dirty buisness aside . . .)

She's shook. Completely still, as if her feet have been glued to the earth, she can't move.

Because her name on his lips is something far more valuable than just a call for response. Because her name on his lips is a testament to something more.

Because coming from Sasuke Uchiha?

Her name on his lips is acknowledgment.

Slowly, she opens her eyes and turns her head over her shoulder to face him, pupils dilated with astonishment, with overwhelming attraction.

With hope.

Her cheeks flush as she meets his gaze expectantly, anxiously, pulse thrumming through her body.

He stares back at her blankly, wholly unaware of the storm he's just brewed inside her chest at the simple call of her name.

"This is a commitment." He tells her firmly, his tone unmistakably serious. Lecturing her as if she's a child incapable of concept. "It isn't something you can just begin and then quit when you feel like it, or when you decide it's too difficult. If you join this team, there's no going back. Do you understand me?"

Sakura turns to him fully. "I do." She nods dutifully.

She hears his sharp, heavy inhale; sees his shoulders slacken in defeat. And she knows then, by the tired look in his eyes, that she's won.

"Alright, then." He says. "Welcome to the team."

A moment of silence.

And then—

"**_CHAAAA!_**" She screams, startling every living creature within a ten mile radius. Sasuke plugs his ears with a wince. She rips off her glove, slaps it in the dirt—and with a giant grin, she pumps a triumphant fist to the sky.

_Hell yeah! Alright, Sakura! You did it!_ _You really, really did it!_

She dances around in circles, uncaring. Her plaid skirt flares outward, hair billowing, ribbon fluttering as she twirls mindlessly, soaking in this moment that she will cherish forever _and ever and ever_—

Naruto, Suigetsu, and Kiba join her shamelessly, dancing around her like a bunch of baboons, happily partaking in her impromptu celebration.

Neji, Shikamaru, and Shino watch them silently, the ghost of a smile on each of their faces. They're clearly in support of their newest addition, but apparently they're just _too cool_ to dance.

Sai's eyes crinkle with genuine mirth.

"Alright—_alright_." Sasuke snaps at their idiocy, patience wearing thin. But the usual bite to his tone is nowhere to be found. As if what he really means to say is: _I hate to crash the party, but I'm still the captain and _someone_ has to take charge_. Sakura stops mid-twirl to fold her hands in her lap and smile brightly at him.

"Thank you so much, Sasuke-kun!"

He blinks at her kindness, at the sweet sincerity softening her features, when just moments ago she had nearly poked a hole through his chest.

Naruto scoffs in disgust. "Why are you thanking _him_? He should be the one thanking _you_." He stuffs his hands in his armpits with a pout and grumbles under his breath, "How come _he_ always gets the credit. Stupid, ungrateful, cocky _bastard_—"

"I can _hear_ you."

"Good!"

"Idiot."

"Asshole!"

"Dead last."

Naruto stomps over to him, lightening crackling dangerously between the captain and his catcher. Sakura clears her throat and dares to step in between, a careful hand on each of their chests.

"Hey . . . " She reprimands softly, looking to the both of them as they stare down at her in quiet surprise. "For being best friends, you guys sure have a funny way of showing it." She muses, raising an eyebrow. _Honestly_, she's sure just about every time these two are together they're bickering.

_But, I guess if they're best friends . . . Who am I to judge? _

Unbidden, she is once more reminded of her own blonde best friend. Reminded of their silly back and forth banter that somehow always ended in giggles or a pillow thrown at the other's face.

Guilt consumes her and the remaining high of her accomplishment melts into bitter regret, stomach tightening like a fist. Sakura takes a step back and shrinks in despair, studying the ground emptily.

Naruto and Sasuke share a questioning glance before frowning at Sakura's sudden change in demeanor.

Without warning, Suigetsu strolls to her side and swings an uninvited arm over her shoulder. She stiffens at his touch and a whiff of masculine cologne hits her nostrils, effectively severing her sour train of thoughts. She scrunches her nose, glaring up at him. He grins sharply and pretends not to notice. "So, now that Pinky here is a part of the dream team," he tells Sasuke, "What's next?"

Sasuke takes the following silence to consider Suigetsu's question seriously. He studies Sakura; takes in her small frame, slender arms, lean legs, and wonders where to even start. After a moment, he asks slowly, "Have you ever played a sport before?"

Sakura brings a finger to her chin and purses her lips, pondering. If she were being honest, the closest thing to a sport she's ever played is Tag.

When she was five.

But even Tag proved to be a challenge for her, because even though she was _fastfastfast_, her terrible balance and coordination always ruined the game for everyone else when she was constantly tripping on her own two feet. At first, she had always been the last to be picked. Until one day, she was not picked at all.

_'I don't want a klutz on _**my**_ team.'_ Five year old Ami would spit, tiny hands on her hips. _'Go find someone else's game to ruin!'_

_'Yeah, Suckura.'_ Another would say, _'We're tired of losing because you don't know how to walk.'_

Tears would spill over her cheeks, but before anyone could say another word, Ino was already windmill-punching the lights out of them.

So, just to be safe, Sakura offers meekly: "Um . . . I've played Putt-Putt Golf?"

Sasuke looks at her like she's just asked him if his last name is Uchiha.

"Putt-Putt Golf," he echoes dryly.

"Yup." She smiles.

Sasuke stares at her for a long time.

Then, his mouth opens and closes in hesitation, like he's not really sure where he's supposed to go from _that_.

"You've never played a real sport?" He asks finally.

"_Mmm_ . . ." She hums thoughtfully before shaking her head. "Nope."

"Perfect!" Suigetsu laughs, tucking her a little more snuggly under his arm. Sakura grimaces and he looks down at her with a toothy grin. "You'll do great, Pinky."

Sasuke pinches the bridge of his nose, exasperated. "Do you know . . . _anything_ about baseball?"

"Nope—" she begins, and then catches herself quickly, "Well, actually, I've never missed a single one of your practices. I've watched you guys since Freshman year, so I've certainly picked up some basics." It's only after the words have already left her mouth that she realizes what she's just admitted.

But it's too late.

"A _fangirl!_" Kiba coos, coming to stand at the side of her that Suigetsu isn't occupying, a smug tilt to his lips. "How sweet."

"_Wow_, Sakura-chan! Is that _true_?" Naruto's eyes sparkle with awe.

"You have really never missed a single practice?" Sai wants to know.

"That's dedication." Shikamaru says quietly, mildly impressed.

Sakura flushes furiously, spluttering to explain herself. "Well—Well I have always just, uh, a-admired you guys a lot and that's—that's why I've always—"

_Gods, I'm really starting to sound like Hinata!_

"Calm down, sweetheart." Kiba has the audacity to ruffle her hair with a large hand. "We're irresistible, we get it."

Sakura quickly smoothes the mess of her pink locks and tightens her ribbon with a glare. Unperturbed by the warning in her eyes, Kiba just laughs; an arrogant sound that has Sakura mentally rolling up her sleeves.

Sasuke ignores them, cutting straight to the chase. "Then that means you will have to be coached." He tells her hesitantly, frowning.

"_Ooh_! Yeah!" Naruto chirps excitedly, taking Sakura's hand in both of his own, ignoring Suigetsu's arm still slung lazily over her shoulder. "I can coach you, Sakura-chan! You just leave it to me, I'll make you the best player in Japan, believe it!"

"No." Sasuke says flatly. "You won't."

"I wasn't talking to you!"

As if the blond never spoke, Sasuke tells Sakura smoothly, "I will coach you."

A scorching burst of butterflies break free in her gut and she has to hold back a sharp inhale of surprise at his straightforward admission. A blaze fills her cheeks at the thought, knees quivering in wake of her realization. _Sasuke Uchiha _is going to coach _her_?

As in—_personally?! _

Inner Sakura gapes, and then promptly faints.

But Naruto rounds on him. "How come _you_ get to coach her?!"

"Yeah, what if I want to coach her, too?" Kiba winks, clearly teasing.

Sakura stiffens, throwing him an angry pout in warning. _Zip your trap, Kiba! Do not ruin this for me! _

"I do believe she needs only one coach." Sai says quietly, puzzled. As if he's not too confident with his own answer.

"We could all take turns." Shino tacks on softly. Like Sai, the joke sails cleanly over his head.

"Why can't _I_ just coach her?" Naruto begs as if she's a stray puppy he's not allowed to keep, whiskered face torn with betrayal.

Sasuke grits his teeth, irritation rearing its ugly head as usual when the blond opens his stupid mouth. "Because _I'm_ the captain." He crosses his arms with a pointed glare. "And because you couldn't coach a fish to swim, idiot."

"Hey! What the hell does that even mean?! Everyone knows I'm way better at baseball than _you—_!"

"Naruto." Neji sighs with a slow shake of his head. "Let it go."

_'Because nobody is better than Sasuke Uchiha_' goes unspoken.

Everyone knows it. As far as Sakura's aware, or at least, as far as she's _heard_—Sasuke has been playing baseball for well over ten years. But with rumors being her only source of information, Sakura isn't quite sure _what_ to believe anymore.

"Whatever," Naruto grumbles, but Sakura gets the feeling he's only relenting because it would be pointless to argue. "But take it easy on her, bastard, or I'll kill you. If she's never played baseball before, then she's got a lot to learn. Right, Sakura-chan?" Naruto turns to her expectantly.

Sakura finally decides Suigetsu's arm has been around her long enough, and so she ducks underneath him, forcing him to let go. Then, when she is finally free, she looks to Sasuke defiantly. "I won't let you down, no matter what." Hard emerald meets onyx. "I promise you won't regret letting me join the team."

Sasuke looks doubtful, but she intends to keep her word.

_Besides, how hard can it possibly be?_

After another painful silence in which he scrutinizes her carefully, looking her up and down with judgement in those bottomless eyes, pausing on the grass stains smeared across her socks; the Uchiha finally meets her gaze and decides on a nod. "Tomorrow."

Panic flashes across her features. "Huh?"

"You train tomorrow." He clarifies darkly.

"Oh, uh—" she fumbles with the hem of her skirt anxiously, butterflies flapping at the walls of her stomach more fervently the longer he stares—she's forced to look away several times, suddenly unable to bear the weight of his intimidating gaze. Then, she scratches her cheek, poking out her tongue sheepishly. "I don't think I have . . . the necessary essentials to start just yet. What I mean is . . . I'm not sure I have the appropriate clothing to—"

Doesn't she need a uniform? Cleats? Athletic wear? (All of which she has _none_, save for a shirt and leggings worn only for Ino's spontaneous fitness adventures.)

His eyes harden. "Make something work."

Sakura bristles. _Just what the hell is _that_ supposed to mean?! Would it kill him to be more specific?_

"_Fine_." She bites out, properly pissed off by his arrogance. She crosses her arms before sarcastically adding, "Don't be mad when I show up tomorrow butt ass _naked_ on rollerblades."

However, to Sakura's absolute astonishment—_amusement, _of all things, glints across his eyes and he raises a brow, the whisper of a smirk just barely playing on the corner of his lips. Sasuke takes a step toward her, smirk widening when she tenses, and leans forward until he levels her gaze.

"_I look forward to it._"

Eyes widening, her heart stutters, nearly exploding with the sensual sound of his low voice in tandem with his smoldering eyes just inches from hers. Arousal like never before flares to life in her abdomen, flaming between her legs as his smirking face hovers before her_._

(How does he _do_ that?)

Naturally, she flushes red at his response. She had meant it as a joke, but she _definitely_ hadn't expected him to play along. In fact, she didn't think he had a humorous bone in his body. Heart pounding, the mischievous twinkle in his eyes forces a thrilling, cheeky grin to Sakura's lips.

He's _teasing_ her.

Sasuke Uchiha is actually teasing her. And it isn't a dream.

_At least, I _hope_ I'm not dreaming. _She surreptitiously pinches herself. Nope. Totally fucking real.

With that, Sasuke leans back to his full height, playful smirk still dancing on his lips, and turns to make his way to the dugout—an unspoken declaration that practice is over.

Like ducklings, the other players dutifully shuffle past her to follow their mother hen.

Still frozen under Sasuke's wicked spell, enraptured by the tiniest playful glimpse of the Uchiha she has never before seen and chest heaving as she watches him go, she suddenly snaps out of it when something dawns on her.

_Wait._

Seriously, what the hell is she supposed to wear?! Sakura takes a step forward, lips parting to ask him another question before he can get too far—

"Just throw on a pair of cute shorts." Kiba whispers as he strolls by, ruffling her hair.

Her cheeks puff irritably, hands flying to her head to quickly fix the mess of her pink locks as she glares at the '**INUZUKA**' on his retreating back.

"Stop doing that!" She barks, and when she hears his cheerful chuckle, steam billows out of her ears.

And then she sighs.

(At least he doesn't call her _Pinky_.)

༺º༻

Sakura sits on the bleachers where she absently kicks her feet back and forth, waiting patiently for Sasuke to emerge with his things. They still have a project to do, and she hopes with all her heart that nothing interrupts them tonight. Because, as it was, they have made _zero_ progress in their assignment.

However, the anxiety of their homework doesn't hold a candle to the thrill of spending time with Sasuke again. Yeah, he's a big fat jerk, but as of late, she's coming to discover that she's not afraid to crack back at him, should he misbehave. She still doesn't really understand what his problem with her is, but she'll be damned if he insults her again.

_And he definitely owes us an apology, _Inner Sakura grumbles.

Sakura nods in agreement with herself.

And then, in the peaceful silence save for the quiet rustling of movement within the dugout, under the sinking sun that paints the horizon blood-orange, the reality of tonight's events begin to settle in the pit of her stomach. Teetering on the cusp of anticipation and fear, Sakura wonders how everyone will take to the wonderful news.

The news of KHS's newest female baseball player.

Her friends are going to _scream_. The whole school will undoubtedly riot with torches and pitchforks at the unforgivable injustice; '**WANTED**' posters with her guilty face plastered on them will litter every hallway, lining the walls like an ominous trail leading straight to her locker. Which will surely be bursting at the seams with hate mail and death threats. (She'll probably have to dodge the red crosshairs of ten sniper rifles aiming straight between her eyes.)

Sakura throws her head back with a soft groan, trying not to think too hard on the matter. Because whatever happens, she'll be ready. So instead, she channels her thoughts to something more . . . favorable.

And by favorable, she means the fact that Sasuke Uchiha is going to be her personal coach.

Her _captain . . . _

_"Can you show me the correct form, Sasuke-kun?" She bats her pretty eyelashes at him, a shy blush blooming on her cheeks. _

_He flashes her a delicious smirk, eyes smoldering like gemstones splayed under firelight; wicked and sinfully sexy. Tall, masculine, and demanding—his presence as he comes to stand behind her has her clenching her knees together, teeth digging into her lip, and molten lava pooling between her legs. _

_It's electrifying—his presence. She feels the magnetic pulse of his strong body as he looms over her shoulder, waves upon waves of electricity prickling every nerve ending in her body, goosebumps rising across the entire expanse of her ivory skin, the absolute _**_fire_**_ in her blood. _

_She jumps when his warm palms slide over the curve of her hips as he leans forward, his hot breath in the shell of her ear as he whispers darkly: "I'll show you something better . . . Sakura."_

_In response to his sultry whisper, she throws her head back against him, resting against his shoulder, eyes pinched shut at the explosion of lust blazing through her veins. She hums in approval through a mischievous smile, teeth sinking into her lip. _

_She bites back a gasp when his large hands coast around to her front, caressing her lower abdomen where a wildfire crackles beneath his roaming fingers. Then, his digits dare to trail lower . . . and lower, slipping beneath the waistband of her pants and just shy of touching the wet, physical evidence of her treacherous body—_

She sighs dreamily, a naughty finger to her lips, before cradling her chin in her hands with a coquettish grin.

But then she stops suddenly, smile dropping into a frown when his cruel words ring in her ears, cracking her fantasy right down the middle. His words latch onto the back of her mind—carved into her heart.

_'Because she's an immature, idiotic, annoying fucking _girl_!'_

Her hands fall to her lap, eyes dropping to the ground before her, empty. No matter how hard she tries to justify the situation, she knows it's useless, and the reality of it all promptly breaks her heart. Not even his unexpected light teasing can chase away the words he'd said. She shakes away the remnants of her daydream, guilt plaguing her insides. For how is it fair to think of Sasuke that way when he is so clearly adverse to _her_.

Especially when the image of his phone being passed into manicured hands flashes in her memory. She cringes fiercely with hurt. Sasuke, who is asocial; who has never had a girlfriend, who has never so much as given a girl a second glance—gave _Ino Yamanaka_ his phone number.

His _phone number!_

Grinding her teeth, she decides musing over Sasuke's words is far less agonizing than thinking about Ino's shameless betrayal.

And so that's just what she does. She thinks about his words, over and over again. Can't help but toss them around in her mind—contemplating the truth behind them.

Does he really feel that way about her? Does he _really_ see her that way? Or had he just been so angry at the time that the words just slipped out?

Her lips tighten at the thought, wondering how something like _that_ could just 'slip out'. Not unless he had been thinking it in the first place. Even though everyone sat there taunting him, poking at his anger as if he were a ticking time bomb ready to explode. But _still_—

Sakura's head pops up when Sasuke gracefully exits the dugout, duffel bag upon his back, hands stuffed in his pockets. She hops off the bleacher and quickly trails after him—but she's only made it ten steps before he stops.

She pauses.

"What?" Sasuke asks, pulling a hand from his pocket to adjust the bag on his shoulders before slightly turning to face the uncertainty on her features. When she doesn't answer, he cocks an eyebrow, silently prompting her to speak.

"Um," she begins hesitantly, focusing everywhere but him and biting her lip. She shyly rubs her palms together in her lap. "I thought we were supposed to work on our project tonight."

She peeks up at him beneath long eyelashes. He stares back at her emptily, not a hint of emotion on his reserved face. As the silence draws on, Sakura splutters nervously, "I mean you—the other day over text—"

A flash of recognition glints in his coal eyes and he sighs heavily, warily, as if just the idea is draining. He looks away, running a stressful hand through his dark locks. "Not tonight."

The sudden crack in her chest is nearly enough to knock the wind out of her; the disappointment so strong that she has to fight to keep the heartbreak off her face as she says with a wobbling smile: "Oh, okay." She swallows the lump in her throat. "I understand."

At the slight waver in her voice, onyx eyes snap back to her face. Watching closely, thick lashes blink slow and steady, eyes flickering across Sakura's broken features as if he can clearly see the dejection behind her fake smile. And then, suddenly, before he can stop himself, "Tomorrow." He promises, surprising them both. "After practice."

Her shoulders straighten and she lights up like a star, eyes aglow with hope. This time, Sakura's smile does not waver. "Sounds good, Sasuke-kun." She nods and then she relays his promise, lest he forget. "Tomorrow."

His eyes linger on her a while longer before he finally nods, and with hands buried in his pockets, he then turns to make his way to the parking lot on the other side of campus. But before he gets too far, he half-heartedly calls back: "Don't forget your rollerblades."

Sakura blinks, and then brings a hand to her mouth, giggling uncontrollably, feeling completely silly for saying such a thing at all. But then she freezes when she realizes what just happened.

Had—Had Sasuke Uchiha just been teasing her?

_Again?_

She gapes after his retreating back, blushing furiously, her pulse a thundering storm inside her chest—

"_HUAH_—!" Sakura stumbles forward when familiar strong arms slink around her neck and a burly chest presses firm against her back. But before she can turn around and punch the perpetrator in the face, Naruto has already released her.

Sakura spins around to whack him over the head for touching her so familiarly, fist already aimed to strike, but his killerwatt smile and joyful crinkling eyes stop her in place. She blinks. "You did really great today, Sakura-chan!" He says cheerfully, "We're all really proud of you!"

Her arm lowers slowly before it falls uselessly to her side. Does he really have to look at her like that? A bubbling warmth spreads within her chest at the unexpected praise, and despite the fury she felt moments ago, the smile that stretches across her lips is as genuinely grateful as she feels. "Thanks, Naruto."

"Of course!" He throws his hands behind his head casually, a gleaming smile still starkly white against his tanned skin. "Listen, the guys and I are all going out for ramen, d'you wanna come? I think we should celebrate!"

She's just about to decline, when she suddenly catches something in his azure eyes that has her second guessing herself; a hope she is sure sparkles in her own eyes when _she_ looks at _Sasuke_. For a moment, she's thrown off completely—bewildered by the overwhelming zeal in his eyes and the unspoken plea behind them: _'It would mean a lot to me if you came, Sakura-chan.'_

And then, just over his broad shoulder, she sees the rest of the team approaching. Suigetsu waves at her delightedly.

"Come on, Pinky!" He calls with a sharp grin, "Join us!" And then he sings merrily: "You _know_ you want _to_!"

Green eyes flick back and forth between an eager Naruto and the team that has now stopped just behind him, seven pairs of eyes awaiting her answer.

Sakura's lips part with the intention to speak, but she falters as she takes in every face before her—every handsome face all the girls of KHS would _kill_ for. (Seriously, they'll gag you and staple your face to the wall if it means getting near them.) She realizes, as she stands before the elite baseball team, that from here on out, she will be a part of their legacy.

Apart of their makeshift family.

But she also realizes, in this moment, as she looks to each of them, that they are complete strangers. People she really knows nothing about, save for the merciless rumors that paint a vague picture in her head of who they really are. Lies and exaggerations that, like Sasuke, make them victims to the acrid jealousy of the entire school.

It strikes her then that she is afraid. Because she is one girl amongst seven of the most powerful guys in KHS, whom could do anything they want with her should they coax her into an isolated space—_and probably get away with it_. Her palms slick with sweat, heart thrumming wildly, short on breath and lips trembling with a panic she isn't prepared for. An onslaught of horrifying thoughts flash through her mind in a montage of the worst possible scenarios.

Her blood runs cold beneath seven pairs of eyes that morph into red, beady slits; each of their faces transforming into villainous masks, their expressions twisting with wicked promise. Purple lightning flashes, branching ominously behind each of their towering forms.

Perhaps it's irrational, perhaps she's overthinking, perhaps she's filling her own head with nonsense—but she's never really _hung out_ with a guy before.

Let alone _seven_ of them at once.

She suddenly wishes Sasuke were here—until she realizes with an icy bitterness that she knows him least of all.

And so she wishes for Ino, for Karin, for Tenten or Hinata—Hell, even Ami. She wishes she weren't alone.

"Hey . . . " Naruto's eyebrows nudge together in concern, "What's wrong?"

She blinks and the hallucination vanishes, revealing the genuine concern on each of their faces, puzzled by the fright that is surely written all over her face.

"Nothing!" She blurts wildly, concealing the tremble of her fingers by clasping them innocently behind her back.

"You don't have to come . . ." Shino says quietly.

"Yeah it's fine, Sakura-chan. I just figured since you're on the team and all . . . we could get to know you a little better." Naruto explains, frowning a little at her strange behavior. "It's not a big deal."

Guilt squeezes her heart, feeling terrible for assuming the worst—but can you blame her? They're intimidating, maybe not intentionally, but they are nonetheless. With her fun-sized height, she has to nearly crane her neck to look up at each of them, where they stand before her like resplendent, imposing giants. Clad in their uniforms, they are a brotherhood to be worshipped—respected.

Feared.

However, she knows it's inevitable. Because she's on the KHS baseball team now. By her own choice, by her own doing, she sealed her fate with a promise and gave Sasuke her word. So she'll _have_ to get to know them sooner or later. Green eyes slowly trail across their faces, all of them calm and surprisingly kind.

Understanding.

And so she stomps out the panic, stifles the anxiety to the best of her ability because they deserve better than that. They deserve better than to be judged by a girl who knows nothing about them. They deserve one less person in the world assuming the worst about them just _because_.

She sees in their eyes how much her promise means to them.

And so Sakura offers all of them a warm, genuine smile. "I think ramen sounds great."

And little does Sakura know in that moment, with those five simple words, just how much they will all eventually mean to _her_.

"Don't worry, I'll get the bastard to come too." Naruto promises. "He isn't getting off that easily."

Including the captain himself.

༺º༻

Sasuke is halfway home when his phone buzzes in his duffel bag.

He nearly groans, because there's only one person in the world who actually _calls_ him. And it's somehow always while he's _driving_. So on the fifth buzz of his cellphone, he snatches the device and presses it firmly to his ear.

"I'm driving." He snaps in way of greeting.

"_Oi! Come get ramen with us!_" Naruto chirps happily, "_Let's celebrate Sakura-chan joining the team!_"

"I can't tonight." He tells him flatly, dreading the literature assignment he's supposed to be working on that completely, uncharacteristically slipped his mind over the weekend. Not that he'll ever admit that to the moron.

"_Come _on_,_" Naruto whines, "_Sakura-chan really wants you to come—_"

There's a muffled _thump!_ and a yelp of pain. And then a faint, feminine voice he recognizes as Sakura: _'I did not say that!'_

_"Ouch, Sakura-chan!" _Naruto cries away from the receiver_._

Sasuke's mouth twitches, delighting in Naruto's well deserved beating, but the amusement he feels doesn't reflect in his next words. "I can't."

"_Stop being so lame._" Naruto carries on, voice loud and clear as if he's brought the phone back to his ear. "_We can't have a team outing without the _captain!"

Sasuke grits his teeth. "I already said—"

"_Fine_." Naruto's voice changes like the flip of switch. Dejected and more than a little disappointed, he says, "_It's not like you ever want to hang out with us anyway._"

And then the line goes dead.

Sasuke brings the phone in front of his face, thoroughly offended. With his other hand still firm on the wheel, obsidian eyes flick from the phone to the road, narrowed dangerously. Did Naruto just seriously hang up on _him_?

_And_ try to guilt-trip him?

He tosses the phone to the passenger seat, irritated.

And then he makes an illegal U-turn.

༺º༻

**Please review and let me know what you think :D**

**Till next time**

**~Sloshi**


	14. Chapter 13

**A/N**: Okay just a quick warning for this chapter; there are some very detailed mature thoughts, and this is the only warning i'll give for the rest of this story. As this fic orbits around a dirty note, the nature of this fic is naturally going to be a bit spicy. ;D So I hope everyone is okay with that!

As for the wait, I am really sorry, my editor has been super busy and so she hasn't gotten around to editing, so this chapter is going to be **unedited** for right now. I'm also trying to stay 4 chapters ahead at all times xD

So anyhow, without further or do! . . . I love you guys and thanks so much for reading and being patient :)

I hope you guys are ready for some hella drama; after all, it's always the darkest before the dawn~

**Soundtrack** (links on my profile for those who listen!)

Little by Little, I Noticed - by A Cerulean State - plays right when Sasuke's flashback starts

~CAPTAIN!~

**CHAPTER 13**

༺º༻

"It really sucks about Lee," Kiba says when he slides into the booth with Suigetsu and Neji. Then, he shoots Sakura an apologetic look across the table. "No offense, Sakura."

"None taken." She replies as she takes her own seat on the outer end of the large booth, squishing in with Naruto, Shikamaru, Sai and Shino. She sighs warily, "I feel so terrible for him. What is he going to do when he wakes up and finds out he can't walk? I can't imagine the devastation he'll feel."

In the little shack of a ramen joint, a place Naruto swears up and down has the best ramen in the country (he knows because he's tried _all_ of them), the baseball team sits at a cozy booth in the back of the establishment, just behind a privacy wall. The lighting is dim, almost orange in hue and calming in nature, and she finds herself totally relaxed. At ease with her new friends all around her—still dressed up in their uniforms sans their hats.

(Except Kiba. His hat sits backwards on his tousled brunette locks, ever the rebellious one.)

She had hitched a ride with Naruto, once again enjoying the spacious interior of his exuberantly painted Mustang, while the other guys followed just behind. This time, however, she didn't bring up Sasuke, and she didn't bring up the mystery of his earphones. Instead, they spoke casually, easily, as if they had been friends for years. Which suited her just fine.

"Oh, he'll wake up with a smile on his face." Suigetsu opens his menu causally, eyes scanning the quirky print. "The guy's spirit is impossible to break."

"You really think so?" Sakura asks, opening up her own menu. She squints a little in the dim lightening, but the pictures display a myriad of delicious ramen and that's all the information she needs. She looks to Suigetsu. "You don't think he's going to be . . . sad?"

She tries not to think about the fact that she's just blatantly replaced him. Tries even harder not to think about the fact that a _girl_ replaced the _Green Beast_. In the grand scheme of things, that might just seem incredibly insulting to his reputation.

Neji scoffs and green eyes glance to him. "Sad isn't in that kid's vocabulary."

"Yeah, he'll be fine, Sakura-chan." Naruto adds from her left. He doesn't pick up the menu once, as he already knows exactly what he's getting. _'I get the same thing everytime.'_ He explained graciously on the car ride there. _'I've even become friends with the owner of Ichiraku because I'm there so much. They love me, believe it!'_

"Are we allowed to see him?" Sakura asks quietly, hesitantly. She doesn't personally know Lee, but it doesn't matter. Because if he's important to them, then he's important to her.

"Sasuke said they won't allow visitors for a few weeks." Shikamaru tells her from down the booth. Sakura leans forward to see his face, but with his chin in his hands, he stares blankly out the darkening window. "Something about not wanting to overwhelm him when he wakes up. And some troublesome medical jargon I didn't catch."

"I see." She replies, and looks to her menu again, simply for something else to look at other than the sorrow on everyone's face. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" Sai asks, perplexed.

She shrugs. "That you guys lost a fantastic player in the final season of the year. That your friend is hurt, and that he will be for a long time."

Suigetsu abruptly leans over the table and flicks her nose. She flinches back with a scowl. "That's what _you're_ here for, Pinky."

She holds the menu higher in front of her face, hiding the twin circles of pink on her cheeks. "Don't do that."

Just then, a pretty waitress arrives, lips curved with a polite, inviting smile. "Welcome back you guys." She greets, nodding to each of them. She pauses on Sakura. "Oh, who's this?"

Sakura opens her mouth to introduce herself, but Naruto is apparently just _so_ good at it that she doesn't even reprimand him when he sings loud enough to capture the attention of every customer in the restaurant: "_Sakura-chan!_ The newest player of the KHS baseball team!"

An apologetic smile lifts Sakura's lips and she gives the waitress a sheepish look. "What he said."

"Nice to meet you, Sakura-san. I'm Ayame." She says warmly, bowing ever so slightly. With that, she takes each of their orders along with their menus.

"Thanks for giving Uno my number, by the way." Naruto tells her when Ayame disappears as quickly as she came. "I think she was really mad at me."

"Huh?" Sakura blinks at him. And then her eyebrows drop dryly. "You mean _Ino_?"

"Yeah, that's . . . _what_ I said." He looks at her seriously, a bit bewildered, like he thinks she might just need a hearing aid.

Then, the confusion hits her like a slap to the face. "I didn't give Ino your number."

_What the hell is he talking about?_

"You didn't?" The confusion on his whiskered face mirrors hers. "Doesn't she sit with you at lunch?"

"Naruto, I don't even _have_ your number." She explains as if he's five. "And yes, she does."

"Oh, you're right!" He gasps. He then whips out his phone and gives it to her. "Here—don't be afraid to call or text if you need anything."

"Thank you." Sakura puts his number in her phone mechanically, not really paying attention, mind now completely occupied by the mystery of _who gave Ino Naruto's number_. Who would even _have_ his number? As far as she knows, the team has never publicly shared their numbers—as a hazard and as a precaution (for _obvious_ reasons), their contacts remain private.

And then it hits her—cold, icy, dread zipping down her spine, freezing her solid.

_And then Ino begins typing something in her own phone, copying information down. _

_Information—like a number. _

Sasuke's_ number._

Oh, no.

_'Don't ever speak to me again.'_

Oh, gods no.

That was not Sasuke's number Ino had received.

It was _Naruto's_.

Fuck. Double fuck. What has she done?! Sakura smacks herself in the face, ignoring the strange looks from the team around her.

"Sasuke-kun gave it to her." She finally breathes in disbelief, chest heaving.

"Are you on drugs?" Sai asks genuinely.

Sakura leans forward, palms splayed threateningly on the table, and shoots him a glare straight from the fiery pits of hell. "No, I am _not_ on drugs, _Sai_."

His pale hands fly up in defense, black eyebrows raising in surprise. "I thought that was an appropriate question—"

"Just shut up, Sai." Kiba rolls his eyes. "Before she reaches over there and smacks the hell out of you."

Sai blinks, and then looks to her with wide, fearful eyes. "Please—"

Suigetsu lets out a wild laugh at Sai's face, which is honestly priceless. Neji coughs and Shino clearly isn't able to hide his own chuckle when his shoulders lightly bounce.

"You know what?" Kiba says suddenly, "Speaking of _Sasuke_," his canine eyes glint with mischief and a smirk dances on the edge of his lips when he looks to Sakura. He leans forward. "I gotta know, was it _really_ a love letter you threw at his head?"

When every head turns to her expectantly, Sakura pales, stomach twisting in a sea of knots.

_Of all the things to bring up—_

"Well, was it?" Shikamaru prompts when she doesn't answer, lifting his chin from his hand, suddenly interested. (Of _course_ he is.)

"Yeah, Sakura-chan. I'm curious too!" Naruto encourages brightly.

"Uh—" her tongue ties, flustered beyond comprehension with the entire team's focus on her. The spotlight of doom flickers on overhead, and she wonders if she should just smash her face on the table to escape this misery. "Uh—"

Neji's pearl eyes lock onto hers, silently solving the mystery. "It wasn't, was it?"

"It—" She squeaks helplessly, cornered like prey. "It—"

Just then, by the grace of a miracle, their food arrives. Piping hot bowls of ramen are set down before each of them by the godsend that is Ayame. Sakura looks to her with all the love in the world burning in her eyes.

"Thank you." She tells her earnestly, and not just for the delicious ramen steaming in her face from below.

Ayame smiles politely, but just before she leaves, she throws Sakura a secret wink.

Sakura melts. _You're a lifesaver, Ayame-chan!_

Having lost interest immediately, Naruto swan dives into his ramen—and she has no idea _how_, especially considering how damn _hot_ that broth has to be, but he does it. (Boy, he does it alright.)

Sakura flinches away from the scalding droplets that threaten to hit her face. "_Naruto!_" She smacks him upside the head when a droplet hits her cheek with a sizzle. He chokes.

"As I was saying." Kiba continues, smirk still plastered on that wolfish face of his. He breaks his chopsticks and twirls his noodles around aimlessly, "Your _love_ letter?"

And then Sakura chokes, too.

"Yeah, Pinky. I want to hear _all_ about this love letter." Suigetsu taunts, breaking chopsticks of his own.

"_It wasn't a damn love letter!_" Sakura's fist hammers on the table so hard the tableware bounces, broth sloshing dangerously in each bowl. When everyone startles, including the patrons at the other tables that are politely minding their own business, she flushes ten shades of red and shrinks in mortification.

"Sorry." She squeaks.

Despite her ramen being far too hot to eat, she quickly breaks her chopsticks for something to do with her trembling hands.

"Temper, _temper_." Suigetsu purrs, amethyst eyes bright with amusement. "Do you get that from your sexy ginger friend? She's a spitfire straight from Hell. Gingers don't have souls, you know."

"Her name is _Karin_." Sakura clarifies, frowning at his strangely disrespectful nick-name. She stabs her chopsticks at him, narrowing her eyes. "You leave her out of this."

"So what was it, if not a love letter?" Shino asks kindly, and somehow it sounds far less offensive when it isn't coming from the _brats_ that are Kiba and Suigetsu. "If I may ask."

Sakura relents, huffing in defeat. "It was—" she swallows hard, "a note."

"A note?" Sai wants to know.

"Yeah . . . for my best friend Ino." _Ex best friend_, she tacks on mentally, suddenly glum.

Kiba's brunette brows furrow in confusion. "Then why is it such a big deal? Why does everyone keep saying it was a love letter?"

Sakura inhales deeply, wholly unprepared for this conversation. Because it's not like she can just tell the whole team she wrote that their captain could _fuck her till she's screaming._ Her cheeks burn just thinking about it, cringing all over again at the way he looked at her that day; those dark eyes that burned into her _soul_ that day.

"It was . . . a misunderstanding." She says instead, fighting to remain undercover.

"Then why was the bastard so embarrassed?" Naruto asks through a sloshing mouthful of noodles. "I _know_ he was. He's my best friend, there's nothing he can hide from me. And I've _never_ seen him like that. That's why I couldn't stop laughing! It was awesome to see him so bedazzled—"

"Frazzled." Sai corrects.

"That's what I _said_."

Sakura cringes. _He's got me there. _

"It was because . . . I said in the note that I—that I liked him." She shrinks, pink as her hair with her confession.

There's a silence.

And then everyone bursts into woofing laughter.

Sakura shrinks even further, sucking in her lips and closing her eyes in embarrassment.

"That's _it_?!" Kiba howls, tears of mirth glistening in the corner of his eyes. "Oh, Sakura—"

"It's not funny!" She bites out, tears prickling at her own eyes—and definitely not out of mirth.

"Yeah!" Naruto barks, at her defense immediately; even though _he_ had been giggling himself a second ago. The traitor. "Shut up!"

"Hey, we aren't making fun of you!" Suigetsu promises, "It's just funny because, well . . . _everyone_ likes Sasuke. Well, most anyway. So really what you're saying is that it was a love letter, _after all._"

Sakura opens her mouth, fists clenching around her utensils, ready to tell him to shut the _mother-loving hell up before she stabs him_ _between the eyes with her chopsticks _when—

"_Sasuke, Sasuke, Sasuke_." Naruto mimics with a high-pitched voice, crossing his arms with a pout. His bowl is already empty. "That's all any girl ever wants!" He harrumphs and points a thumb inward at his chest. "It's high time a cute girl likes _me_ for once! Believe it!"

"I know a girl who does." Sakura blurts without thinking. Actually, a lot of girls like Naruto, but she gets the feeling he's _really just that dense. _She wonders what he does with the sea of love letters that no doubt fill his _own_ locker.

She bets he doesn't even open them, doesn't even know what they are.

Maybe that explains the lack of response to the love letter that took Hinata twelve days to write, five days for the girls to convince her not to throw away, and three days just to gather the courage to slip it in his locker.

To say Hinata was devastated when she received no response would be an understatement. It broke her heart.

"_WHAT?!_" Naruto shouts and she has to flinch away from his disgusting spit. "WHO?!"

"Naruto, will you lower your _goddamn voice? _You're fucking scaring everyone." Suigetsu growls.

Across from them, the table with a lovely couple and their two young children hurriedly move seats, both toddlers crying. An elderly couple leap with astonishing speed from their booth and hobble away as if they aren't a fart away from dying. Everyone disappears beyond the threshold of the privacy wall that separates one half of the restaurant from the other, leaving the room deserted.

"Who, Sakura-chan?" Naruto continues as if nothing happened.

"I'm sorry, Naruto . . . I can't tell you."

"Okay, shut the hell up, Naruto. I want to hear more of Sakura's story." Kiba shushes him, waving a disrespectful hand in his face from across the table before resting his chin in his hands, sparkling eyes glued to Sakura. Naruto grumbles, but surprisingly does what he's told.

When the blond is quiet, Kiba continues cheerfully. "So you like Sasuke. What's the big deal, huh?" His grin widens. "There's no way _Sasuke_ would get flustered over something like _that_. At least, I've never seen it. Do you even know how much fan mail he gets on a daily basis? Enough to build a bridge out of them, sweetheart. A _bridge_. To be fair though, I don't believe he's ever read a single one of them. But he's not stupid, he knows exactly what kind of _offers_ are in those letters. So, the real question is," He sits back and crosses his arms as if he's just solved the world's greatest riddle, obnoxiously proud of himself. "If you can rattle him so badly, what makes _you_ so special, Sakura?"

"I . . . " she can't even comprehend the words he's just said. Not because she can't speak her own language, but because he's _right_. Just as Ino said to her that day: Sasuke probably gets much, _much_ worse confessions stuffed in his locker.

Right?

A wonder sparks to life in her eyes. Why _was_ he so flustered, if her note wasn't so much different than the ones he's already gotten?

Then again, however, she's probably overthinking it. They all are. What Kiba is proposing is basically implying that she has some small amount of influence on Sasuke—implying he was embarrassed because maybe he _liked_ what he read in the note. Which would have to imply that he likes _her_, no matter how small the feeling.

Except, the stone-cold truth is, Sasuke seems to hate her, and if she were being honest, she's pretty sure he never even knew she existed until that note. So none of that could even be remotely possible.

The only thing she can possibly think of is that she somehow suggested a sex position in the note that happened to be_ . . . favorable_—by some coincidence, some miracle, hitting a sweet spot no other girl could have guessed. Proposing something naughty he's never quite considered before.

Hmmm.

_Nah_.

Sakura leans forward on her elbows, ignoring the ramen before her that has grown cold. "It doesn't matter." She tells them. "It doesn't matter because Sasuke-kun hates me and I—" she stops herself suddenly, eyes widening at what she just saved herself from saying out loud.

_I hate him, too._

Does she?

_'Because she's an immature, idiotic, annoying fucking _girl_!'_

No. She doesn't hate him. But—

"You . . . _what_?" Suigetsu encourages, chin in his hands, thrilled by her derailing train of thought.

By now, the whole team looks as if it's story time and their favorite book is being read aloud.

"I'm upset with him." She decides right then and there, sitting up straight. "I'm upset with him because he said terrible things about me even though he knows nothing about me." Every word grows stronger as she goes on, more sure of herself. "I'm upset with him because he doubted me. I'm upset with him because I hoped he wasn't the heartless monster everyone says he is. And I'm upset with him because what he said won't get out of my head, even now. I wish he would have apologized or—or at least showed me he's a decent human being, and not just like the people who call him ugly names behind his back. And behind _mine_. He's awfully quick to judge for someone whose name is in everyone's mouth. He should know how it feels."

Silence.

Uncomfortable silence.

Sakura blinks, wondering why the hell everyone turned to stone, staring off with wide eyes into space like she isn't there, when she suddenly realizes they aren't spacing out at all. But rather, looking over her shoulder.

Where Sasuke stands as still as a statue.

༺º༻

He hears all of it, of course.

He hears all of it, and his mind blanks.

Because_ 'heartless monster'_ is the only thing that his mind registers. The only thing that twists his chest like a wrung towel and the only thing that echoes in the white of his mind at her words. Something cracks and splinters inside his ribcage, and suddenly he is taken back to a memory that still bleeds raw.

_"Yeah, man . . . Uchiha? Totally fucking heartless." Someone says casually, unaware that Sasuke is listening just on the other side of the bookshelf in the library. "He turns down every girl that confesses to him and thinks he's better than everyone else 'cause he's a pretty-boy baseball captain with daddy's cash."_

_"Dude, I've never even seen him smile. Do you think he's human?" The other guy chuckles, "Or is he a—" he cuts himself off with a rainbow of 'beeps' and 'boops', imitating a stupid robot. _

_"I'd say less of a robot, and more of a monster, man. I'm serious, have you _seen_ the guy get angry?" The first guy roars, pretending to be something not of this world—pretending to mimic _**him**_—before they both burst into laughter. "He acts like such a hardass when really he's just a heartless pussy."_

_Sasuke scowls at their meaningless words, grabbing the book he came to retrieve in the first place. He doesn't care what the hell people think, what people say, because it's not like their empty words really matter. He doesn't let the gossip phase him, not even in the slightest._

_Truly, he doesn't._

_But when he removes the book from the shelf, he sees very clearly through the empty slot who is so cheerfully making fun of him._

_His eyes widen marginally—because if there's anything he expected, it wasn't this. _

_It's a freshman kid he coached on the side just last year; someone he spent a lot of time with—two months, to be exact—and someone he thought he connected with on some level because the kid really showed a passion for baseball. Reminded Sasuke a bit of himself, even, and he had been actually eager to teach him at the time. And there isn't much Sasuke Uchiha is eager about these days._

_Coaching him had been different than his usual drills, different from coaching his own team, and it was far more fun than just any old practice. He looked forward to it. And even though the kid kind of sucked, he seemed to really love it. _

_Despite Sasuke's initial hesitance, after countless practices, he reluctantly began to consider the kid a real friend. He grew on him. He trusted him; a gift the Uchiha seldom ever gives. More than that, he helped Sasuke discover that coaching was one of the few things he genuinely enjoyed—even if the look on his face, or the terrifying tone of his commanding voice seemed otherwise. _

_In the halls, the kid always smiled and waved at him. One of the only people in the halls he'd ever wave back to. _

_Sasuke closes his eyes, blood running cold. His chest tightens as if a python restricts his lungs, nostrils flaring. _

_He shoves the book back into the bookshelf so hard the frame trembles. He storms out of the school library, uncaring that he is most likely drawing more attention than usual to himself in his whirling anger, but he doesn't care. No. He doesn't give a fuck, actually. _

_"Hey bastard—!" Naruto unfortunately catches him in the hall, waving cheerfully, crossing paths with a cyclone of fury the blond doesn't even know is coming._

_"Shut the fuck up." Sasuke hisses, shoving past Naruto's shoulder so hard that the blond stumbles embarrassingly, flailing his arms out to keep from falling flat on his ass. _

_"What the _**_FUCK_**_ is your problem, asshole?!" Naruto roars, spinning on his heel, obnoxious voice echoing throughout the halls as if he were screaming through a megaphone. "You're such a fucking heartless dickhead, you know that?!" He screeches at the Uchiha's retreating back. He cups his hands around his mouth and bellows at the top of his lungs: "ASSHOLE!"_

Heartless_. _

_Sasuke leaves school early, and doesn't tell a soul. _

_When he gets home, even Dango jumps out of his warpath, paws scrambling across the floor, darting away in fright when his front door slams against the wall. He pinches the bridge of his nose as he stands in the open threshold, not sure what to do with himself or why he even feels the way he does. Because he doesn't care what people say—what people think, what rumors they spread, whatever bullshit they think is funny or entertaining. _

_And it isn't denial. It's the honest truth. _

_But somehow, this just feels different._

_It _is_ different. _

_A betrayal he neither expected, nor realized would feel so horrible. And so Sasuke marches up to his room and doesn't come out for the rest of the night. _

_And never coaches anyone again. _

Sasuke doesn't move.

Neither does anyone else.

Everyone just stares at him, and he stares back, unreadable. Tall, dark, and incredibly imposing, he doesn't move.

Then, he looks to Sakura. At the utter shock on her face, the horror in her emerald eyes.

And he hates her.

Sasuke doesn't care how irrational it is, nor if he's wrong. (Deep inside, where everyone so _adamantly_ insists he is heartless, he knows he's hurt her just as well.) But there's no rationality here. Not tonight.

Because seriously, what the fuck?

After he just allowed her on his team—after he had just let the dislike for her falter _just_ the tiniest bit in favor of her incredible display of ability and admirable confidence. Sakura goes and says . . . _that_.

The _one_ goddamn thing he can't stand.

And just like the library, Sasuke turns on his heel with the intention of storming out of the restaurant, hell-bent on never looking at her deceptively kind face ever again.

"Sasuke-kun!" He hears her call out, panic lacing every syllable. "Sasuke-kun—wait a second! _Hey_—!"

He walks faster, she's chasing after him—

There's a crash, a shattering of crockery, and a wild gasp.

And for a moment—for a _moment_—he stops. He looks back over his shoulder to see if she's okay, dark eyes quickly flickering behind a curtain of black locks, assessing the damage.

The waitress she must have run into covers her mouth in horror.

Covered in noodles and steaming hot broth, in the dead silence, standing in the middle of the restaurant, tears streaming down her face, they make eye contact.

And then he walks out.

༺º༻

Sakura wraps herself beneath the warm comfort of her cotton duvet, green eyes empty as she lays in bed, staring across the room at her tacky decorated walls.

The tears have long since dried on her cheeks, but the dreadful guilt still twists in her stomach like a knife.

The car ride home had been deathly silent.

Hot tears still rolled down her face as she had looked out the window, eyes glazed and unseeing even as the night life of downtown Konoha passed her by. But even so, Naruto had said nothing. For once, the catcher of KHS had nothing to say. Or maybe he just hadn't known _what_ to say.

It didn't matter anyway.

When he dropped her off, she had somehow managed to choke out a polite thank you—and then she was running into the safety of her empty house, thankful for once that nobody was around to see or hear the hurricane that poured down her face the moment the door shut behind her.

She cried in the shower. She let the blasting water drown her frustrated sobs as she viciously scrubbed the ramen broth from her hair, let the scalding water thaw the icy dread in her veins.

She cried harder on the way back to her room. She let the tears soak her pajamas when she changed into them.

And she cried the hardest when she crawled into bed, throat constricting, eyes burning, shoulders shaking with regret and guilt and _why couldn't I have just kept my mouth shut?!_

Now, as she stares blankly across the room, still as stone, she wonders why she even cried at all.

If she were being honest with herself, now that the storm has dissipated, she knows she might have said a bit too much. Knows she should probably apologize for the things she implied, and for being so ready to assume the worst about him.

Knows that would be the right thing to do, the correct thing. The _mature _thing to do.

But not the thing Sakura chooses to do.

Not yet.

Instead, she hides beneath the protection of her blankets, wrapped up in the fabric like a sad pink burrito and wallows in her misery.

_I shouldn't have to apologize for how I feel. But maybe I could have worded it a little differently. _

She wonders now, in the silence of her room, if she should have followed him. If she should have caught up with him outside the restaurant if only to explain the misunderstanding. She hadn't been _calling_ Sasuke a 'heartless monster.' She had only meant that, in light of his recent behavior, that he reminded her of the poisonous rumors she's already heard. And that she hoped none of them were actually true.

Slowly but surely, as she reflects more on the night, as she plays it back in her mind over and over, the anguish she feels morphs into simmering anger.

Because why didn't he let her explain herself? Why did he just . . . run away? _He's_ the one who called _her_ terrible names! And _she_ hadn't run away.

_Coward! _she pouts, mentally beating her fists on his broad chest. _Stupid, arrogant, stubborn coward!_

Sakura sighs, snuggling even deeper within her blanket burrito. It can't be helped. She feels confused; overwhelmed with inner conflict, but no amount of mental speculation will change the truth.

Sasuke hates her.

Smoldering black flashes in her memory—the way he looked at her when she was caught in the midst of her treachery. She had stiffened at the time, explosions of butterflies bursting in her stomach at the raw emotion she saw in his eyes. His expression had remained beautifully blank, wholly unaffected on the outside.

But she saw the maelstrom on the inside.

Saw what he can never hide. Not from someone like her.

The anger, the betrayal, the _hurt_ in his gloomy eyes stole the air from her lungs. Like she had just announced to his whole team that he was the absolute biggest piece of shit on the face of the planet. Underneath those unblinking dark lashes, behind those unruly black bangs, she saw it. The pain flashed across his onyx orbs as clear as if it were lightning against the darkest sky. She _felt_ it. Her heart broke for him, even if _he_ was the one who started it. Even if it was _he_ who hurt _her_.

Two wrongs don't make a right.

_But I didn't call him a heartless monster! That wasn't—that wasn't what I meant, Sasuke-kun!_

Sakura grits her teeth, clawing at her face in dread. Now he just hates her even more!

When fresh tears prickle her eyes, she rolls around on her other side, where her hot pink phone lays face down on the night stand, silent. Maybe she should call him. Or perhaps just shoot a small text. She stares at the device for a long time, debating, sinking her teeth into her bottom lip in frustration. It's times like these when she _really_ wishes Mom were here again; to tell her what to do about stupid boys and hold her when she cries. Misses her limitless patience.

'_Just give him time,'_ She hears Mom say, eyes gentle. _'He'll come around.' _

And so Sakura doesn't text him, doesn't call him. She's not going to bother him or reach out to him, even if her entire being vibrates with the want to do so. She gives him space.

Yes. _Space_.

With that, a cathartic breath whooshes from her lungs, chest deflating with a sudden peace of mind.

Practice tomorrow will be interesting.

_Wait_—

Sakura shoots straight up, eyes nearly bulging out of her sockets.

_PRACTICE! _

She yanks the blankets over her face with a dreadful, wailing groan.

Sasuke isn't going to show her an ounce of mercy—_especially_ after tonight. Gods, he's going to drill her into the ground and twist his heel into her hopes and dreams with that stupid, devilish smirk on his face.

(And he's going to _love_ it.)

"_Why, Sasuke-kun . . . _?" She whispers.

Sakura flops back onto her bed, grabbing a pillow to stifle her unladylike screech.

When she blows off the remaining steam, she throws the pillow off to the side and stares up at the ceiling, defeated. She decides she doesn't want to think about it anymore. Doesn't want to dwell on a past she can't change and a boy she can't help but care about.

Sakura grabs her phone, sends a few texts to her friends whom ask if she's made it home okay, how it went with Sasuke, how the project is coming, if Sasuke is as much of a jerk as everyone says he is. She opts for vague replies like: _'great!'_ and _'went well'_ and _'he's a jerk, but we'll work it out somehow.'_

She doesn't tell anybody she's joined the baseball team, if only to spare herself a night of peace before things _really_ get rocky. There's no telling how everyone will react, but she _knows_ the rest of the school, including people like Ami, will lose their heads. Because nobody just _joins_ the KHS baseball team.

At the beginning of each season, brutal try-outs are always held on a single day; a day so full of buzz and excitement it's practically considered a KHS holiday. The whole school watches as only the best of the best make the first cut. But even if someone is lucky enough to make it, they're usually off the team by the first week anyhow. Sasuke isn't exactly the _lenient_ type. He's unsympathetic in his selection, straightforward in his honesty, and downright merciless in his leadership.

But he knows what he's doing, knows what's best for his team, and it shows.

And so for four years, without fail, the only players who ever make the cut are the very guys she's just went and had ramen with. The only players who are up to par with Sasuke's meticulous standards. Players that have broken KHS records time and time again. A baseball league of _legends_.

Sakura thinks about her promise.

And wants to curl into a ball and never come out of her room again. Because how is she supposed to be the _best player they've ever seen_ when she's five-foot-nothing and trips over her own shadow?

A sigh. She needs a distraction.

Connecting her phone to her little Bluetooth speaker that sits on a bookshelf caddy-cornered on the other side of her room, she switches on something that will silence the torment inside her head.

Because if anything can get her through anything—it's music.

Because music gives as much as it takes; stifling unwanted thoughts and instead filling herself with melodies and harmonies and lyrics that cry out so that she doesn't have to. And as a girl of many emotions, Sakura finds that music shoulders the heavy burden of her heart just the same.

Folding her hands on her stomach, she turns on something entirely random, allows the slow strum of a guitar and the lilting feminine voice to wash away her worries—transporting her to a world without KHS, without Ino, without baseball, without rumors and lies and bullies. A world without Sasuke.

A world of her own.

She closes her eyes, listening. Each breath she takes lulls her deeper into a sedated sense of mind. She lets the melody sweep her further away—anywhere away from here, where she lays in her room, entirely alone, heavy with regret.

_' . . . In the middle of his baseball field . . . '_

Eyes still closed, she clicks the volume higher.

_And when her heart violently smashes against her rib cage, suddenly, she's all too aware of the wanton way she's straddling his hips, leaning over him intimately; the realization of their proximity as if they're a whisper away from a kiss._

And higher.

The emptiness of her house is suddenly filled with deafening music that ricochets off every wall. She tries to let the slam of the chorus suppress the tingling deep within her abdomen, pretends she isn't phased by the way he looked up at her, the way his obsidian eyes widened, the way he held her wrists in a strong, iron grip.

Pretends she doesn't remember feeling the warmth of his strong, lean body beneath her, radiating off of him in waves of powerful masculinity. Pretends she doesn't remember his breath on her lips, the intoxicating natural scent of his pheromones. Pretends she doesn't remember the feel of him between her thighs, firm against her body.

Pretends her fingers aren't slipping beneath the waistband of her panties.

Suddenly, she thinks how easy it could have been to _unbuckle his belt, slide her damp panties to the side and sink down on his hard length, filling the empty ache between her thighs. How easy it could have been for her lips to fall open when he snaps his hips upward, meeting her own hips in tandem, filling her over and over again, strong hands on her hips holding her in place as she throws her head back with a shrill cry of his name—_

Sakura cries out when she peaks, but the call of Sasuke's name is drowned by the thrashing of her speakers, stifled by the woman's voice belting a chorus across the room. Her back arches off the bed with the force of her orgasm, lost in the white clouds of ecstasy before she crashes right back down, body trembling with the aftershock.

Sweating profusely, heart racing, her chest heaves as the blood pumps wildly though her veins with the exertion.

Not a moment later, shame strikes her like lightening, jolting through her entire body and tips her insides so quickly that she's nauseas.

_What the hell is _wrong_ with me?_

Sakura pulls the covers over her crumpling face and cries.

༺º༻

_Up._

_Down._

_Up._

_Down._

The ball bounces carelessly in his hand as he throws it up, catches it, and then up again.

Sprawled on his bed with his other hand behind his head, he stares at the ceiling, bouncing the ball absently in his bare hand.

If he were being honest with himself, now that the anger has dissipated, he knows he might have overreacted a bit. Knows he should probably apologize for the names he called her, and for being so ready to disregard her as a whole.

Knows that would be the right thing to do, the correct thing. The _un-heartless_ thing to do.

But not the thing Sasuke chooses to do.

Not yet.

Instead, he ignores the relentless buzzing of his phone from his team, where it vibrates and dances on his nightstand like it's having a seizure. He doesn't write his assignment, doesn't eat, doesn't change out of his uniform, doesn't even glance at the time to see if he should be getting ready for sleep or not.

He omits his meticulous schedule tonight in favor of brooding.

And that's just what he does; onyx eyes train on the white of his ceiling as the ball continues to hop up and down in his hand. He doesn't feel like moving, or getting up. Doesn't feel like anything, really.

Except guilty.

And he hates it. Hates that feeling with every fiber of his being—_hates_ the feeling of being at fault.

He hates himself for being so quick to cave. For not being stronger when it comes to stupid things like this, and making himself look like a coward in front of his whole team, running away from a situation that seems so _stupid_ now in retrospect. He should have just ignored Naruto's call and gone home.

Because even if he doesn't show it, even if none of them know it, he _does_ care.

But he supposes they don't need to know that. It doesn't matter, doesn't logically help anyone or achieve anything. It's just another thing to overlook about Sasuke Uchiha.

And then, somehow, it just so happens that Sakura says the very thing—one of the _only_ things—that completely sets him off.

Although . . .

_' . . . you might not like me, Sasuke-kun, but . . . you don't have to be so goddamn _cruel_ about it!'_

_'. . . I'm upset with him because what he said won't get out of my head, even now.'_

_'He's awfully quick to judge for someone whose name is in everyone's mouth. He should know how it feels.'_

The ball stops in his hand. He closes his eyes, cringing once again at his ruthless words, the stupid irony of it all, and he has to wonder if he is perhaps heartless after all. He hadn't meant to say those things, never meant to hurt her like that. Every single word he had said he wishes he could take back, if only to erase that heartbreaking image of her sloped, tearful eyes glazed with anguish.

Fingers tighten around the baseball in his palm.

. . . It isn't _his_ fault she's so damn annoying.

But she's a damn good catcher.

(And he hates that, too.)

There's a lot of things he hates, he thinks, as the ball bounces again. Starting with his _brother_—

A trilling mew and the tinkle of a collar has his head slightly raising. He looks across the expanse of his large bed just in time to see Dango hop up on the blankets and trot happily toward him. She purrs wildly when she gets to his face, wet nose lovingly nudging his chin. He instinctively jerks his head away from the sensation.

And then he sighs heavily.

Dango blinks before she shoves her wet nose against his cheek, uncaring. Sasuke tosses the ball somewhere off to the side of his bed and turns on his side, petting Dango's soft pelt as she purrs continuously. The vibration of the sound is somewhat relaxing, but the goddamn fluff of her hair nearly makes him sneeze several times. Unfortunately, he's used to it by now, and so he just lets her rub all up in his face like she owns it.

Spoiled cat.

"_Maou_." She mews, and then rolls lazily onto her side, fluffy tail flicking in content. _Pet me_, she begs.

Sasuke rolls his eyes and then proceeds to turn onto his other side, where he stares blankly at the phone that has gone strangely silent.

What, did they finally give up?

_Idiots_.

Sasuke doesn't even bother to check.

Instead, he leans over and reaches into his duffel bag that he had thrown carelessly to the side of his bed. He pulls out his iPod and earphones, not even bothering to try and use his phone if only to pretend that hundreds of notifications don't fill his screen.

Dango jumps off the bed when she realizes she isn't going to get the attention she deserves, and she haughtily prances out of his room and slips through the crack of his door.

Sasuke pops in his earphones and lays back. Because if anything can get him through anything—it's music.

Because music is as deafening as it is fulfilling; drowning out unwanted thoughts and instead filling himself with melodies and harmonies and lyrics that scream so that he doesn't have to. And as a man of little words, Sasuke finds that music speaks for him instead.

He closes his eyes, listening. He picks something entirely random, allowing the sudden guitar riffs to silence his inner musings, his inner strife. Lets the melody sweep him away—anywhere away from here, where he lays in his room, entirely alone, heavy with guilt. The voice in the speakers quells the voice in his head and Sasuke is transported to another world untainted by the wrong-doing he's done here in his own.

With every deep breath, his body slowly relaxes.

_' . . . In the middle of his baseball field . . . '_

Sasuke's eyes snap open, pausing the music.

Unbidden, the sensation of her warm body pressed flush against him comes to life in his memory, vividly, as if she is right there on top of him again.

He remembers the feel of her pelvis brushing his own with every little squirm of her hips—remembers the astonished look in her big, innocent eyes as she blinked down at him.

The sudden ache he felt between his legs.

Sasuke's ears burn red and he quickly switches his music back on, snuffing out the memory with a thrashing guitar. Because that is _not_ what is going to fill his head tonight. Sasuke Uchiha is a lot of things—but he isn't a pervert. (Or so he thinks.)

_'Are you okay?'_

He clicks the volume up as loud as it can go until her small, breathless voice is suffocated by the crashing of drums.

_'Sasuke-kun . . . ?'_

It isn't working. Already, he feels heated—and he doesn't mean anger. He scowls, rubbing at his eyes viciously as if he can scrub the sounds and images away.

It doesn't help that he has never had someone so physically close to him before; not like that. _Especially_ not on top of him where he is left to wonder how the sensation would feel without clothes—

Sasuke grits his teeth, heart pounding at the intrusion of thoughts. The music still blasts in his head, but he doesn't hear it anymore.

_Wide, green eyes stare down at him with wonder as he holds her slender wrists between his strong hands. How easy it could've been to switch their positions, how easy it could've been to lay her in the dirt, pink hair fanned around the flushed desperation on her face, lift that skirt of hers, and spread her legs with the flat of his palms—_

Sasuke shoots straight up into a sitting position, earphones snapping from his ears, eyes wide.

_No._

The sudden arousal is so overwhelming he isn't even capable of thinking straight. He doesn't have to look down to see the outline of the physical evidence, straining tightly against the white of his baseball pants. He desperately rubs at his face, willing the heat to recede or stop, or—or _something_.

But the treacherous thoughts don't stop there.

As if the memory stubbornly resets itself, demanding to be experienced, she sits on top of him again. He thinks how easy it could have been to _unbuckle his belt and slide his hands up the side of her thighs, lifting her skirt with the fluid motion. How easy it could have been to slide her sopping panties to the side. And with one thrust, how easy the blunt head of his length would impale her tight passage, followed inch by inch of the rest of him. And with an extremely powerful buck of his hips, he would lodge himself to the hilt inside her, firm hands on her hips holding her prisoner to the pleasure, and she would bounce in his lap from the brute force, screaming his name—_

Sasuke's eyes nearly roll to the back of his head with the thought and he falls back onto his pillows, groaning softly. Pale fingers twitch with the need to touch the pulsing bulge on his thigh, protruding against the strain of his now uncomfortably tight pants.

But the moment his fingers brush along the metal buckle of his belt, a voice stops him in his tracks.

_'Well, you certainly seemed _'out-of-shape' _when you were panting like a dog against my lips earlier, holding onto me like some _pervert_!'_

Sasuke grimaces, immediately disgusted with himself. He throws his arm over his eyes, pissed off all over again.

(But the arousal he feels doesn't lessen an inch.)

He is _not_ a pervert.

Snapping himself out of it, he now has to wonder how the hell he just went from thinking about how much trouble this girl is, to . . . _that_.

Except, he knows the answer before he's even finished asking himself the question. Sasuke's not stupid. He knows exactly how—exactly why. He knows any _healthy_ guy exposed to a situation like that would think about it afterwards. Knows any healthy guy might . . . _fantasize_.

Well, he _thinks, _anyway.

Being a clueless virgin doesn't help his cause.

He's never had sex, never found himself in a sexual situation, never even _kissed_ a girl, and although the guys never say anything out of respect for his ego, save for Naruto, he knows they probably think him insane. (Or gay.)

But he's just never really . . . _thought_ about it.

Or cared.

With his brother still out there somewhere, the only _pleasure_ Sasuke allows himself is baseball. With his uncle still watching him like a hawk, he wouldn't dare risk bringing girls home, lest his uncle decides to get involved in his personal buisness. (And he would.)

Maybe in another life, he might have cared about trivial things like sex. Maybe in another life, he might have reveled in the wanton affection thrown at him from every direction by crooning girls with hearts in their eyes.

Maybe in another life, he could've given Sakura a chance.

But not this life.

So Sasuke finally decides to take a shower (a very cold one), changes into grey sweatpants and a white V-neck, flips off his light, and returns to his bed. Strong arms fold behind his damp, unruly locks.

_Sakura_, he thinks out of nowhere, onyx eyes focusing somewhere in the dark, _has got to be the most irritating girl I've ever met. _

And he's really known her for what—he counts on his fingers behind his head—six days now?

"_Tch_."

Now he's supposed to _coach_ her? The girl can't hit a ball to save her life, but at least she can catch. (_At least.) _That saves him some trouble. There's only so much time until the quarterfinals, and he'll be damned if a player of his can't even hit a ball.

If she thinks this is going to be easy—if she thinks _he's_ going to be easy on her—she's in for a wild ride.

Sasuke closes his eyes and falls asleep.

But not before a guilty hand slips beneath his waistband, finally releasing the tension between his thighs as the imagined soprano of Sakura's voice gasping his name sends him spiraling over the edge; body spasming, back arching, and head thrown back to the memory of soft green eyes and the thought of her lips in the shape of an _O_.

༺º༻

(He's never felt more ashamed with himself in his entire life.)

But after he finishes, he does it once more.

༺º༻

**A/N**: *hides*

**Please don't forget to review and tell me what you think :D**

**Until next time~**

**Sloshi**


	15. Chapter 14

**A/N:** Heyo :D I'd just like to say really fast that a friend of mine made me think about mentioning this. Captain! is a unique fic in that it has very specific time constraints, so there won't be any huge major time skips. This whole fic will take place around a 3-4 month time period, as there are 3 tournaments in total that they will play. There's still a shit ton of thick plot to play with here (this is seriously still the first 'arc'), but I don't want to rush it, nor drag it out; so i'll try to be as careful as possible. It _is_ still a slow burn, after all. I guess this fic could be received as how a J-drama would be, or any kind of TV/Anime series. Anyway that's all :D !

**Soundtrack** (links on profile page for those who listen!)

"The Warmth I've Searched for" by A Cerulean State - at 2:08 Right when Tenten grabs her wrist

"Bomb Intro / Pass That Dutch" by Missy Elliot - at 0:16 right when Sasuke sees Sakura coming closer

_Annnnnd . . . let the show go on! Huzzah! ~*~*~_

**~CAPTAIN!~**

**Chapter 14**

༺º༻

Sakura doesn't go to school on Tuesday.

She doesn't want to see Ino, doesn't want to see Ami, doesn't want to see Sasuke—doesn't want to face the malicious entity that is KHS. She doesn't want to hear another rumor.

And because nobody is here to tell her otherwise, she does just that.

_'Oh no, Sakura-san! Are you okay?'_ The school's PA, Shizune, had asked in concern when she called in, genuinely worried for Sakura's health.

Sakura coughed dramatically, smacking her chest with a fist and milking it for all its worth. _'No, I'm'_—cough—_'I just came back from the doctors.'_ She felt terrible for lying to someone as sweet as Shizune, for taking advantage of her kindness. But desperate times call for desperate measures._ 'I have Ebola.'_

Sakura decides to use this day for the one thing Ino always tells her is the cure for all: _shopping_.

_'I'm skipping school today.'_ She texts Tenten, _'So don't worry about saving me a seat in Chemistry.'_

She tosses her hair up with her yellow ribbon in a high ponytail, pink bangs flopping on either side of her face. She throws on a simple pleated skirt and tank top, slings her satchel over her shoulder and is just heading out the door when her phone rings.

"_Why are you skipping?!_" Tenten squawks before Sakura can even say hello.

Sakura kicks back the kickstand of her bike, phone squished between her ear and shoulder as she prepares to hop on. "I just don't feel like coming in today. I have some . . ." She switches the phone to her other ear, clearing her throat. "errands to run."

She needs athletic wear if she's going to be running baseball drills, and knowing Sasuke, he's going to make sure she sweats through every article of clothing she owns.

"_Really?!_ _Wait for me! I'm skipping with you!_" Tenten squeals excitedly. "_See you in fifteen!_"

"What? Tenten, no, you don't have to—" but the line goes dead before she can finish her sentence.

Sakura pauses in mounting her bike to bring the phone to her face. When the screen falls asleep, her anxious reflection stares back, teeth gnawing on her lower lip. If Tenten comes shopping with her, she's no doubt going to ask questions as to why she's buying _athletic wear_, of all things. It's no secret she's a total klutz, unfit, and completely adverse to exercise as a whole.

Tenten isn't an idiot. She's going to know something's up.

_So much for keeping it on the down low,_ Sakura scowls. But Tenten is one of her best friends. If Sakura asks her to keep a secret, she _knows_ she will.

So when Tenten arrives on a slim bike of her own, brunette hair done up in her usual spunky space-buns and clad in a purple T-shirt and ripped jeans, Sakura offers her a bright white smile and lets herself enjoy the comfort of her company.

"This is so exciting!" Tenten says as she rolls up the driveway, brown eyes twinkling with delight. "We should totally do this more often!"

Sakura laughs, mounting her own bike. "I would if Tsunade-sama wasn't so terrifying." She follows Tenten as they briskly cycle onto the sidewalk, spring breeze tousling through their hair. "I heard her biggest pet-peeve is students who play hooky."

Tenten snorts, feet pedaling. "Yah, right. She's too drunk half the time to _notice_."

Sakura giggles, not because it's a joke, but because it's the truth. The principle of KHS is a hurricane of a woman; with blonde hair, _ginormous_ boobs, fiery temper, a hint of alcoholism, and a gambling problem, she just might be the scariest woman in all of Japan. "Can't argue there."

However, when they cycle their way into town and arrive at a sporting goods thrift store, Tenten's eyebrows furrow in confusion. "Are we going in _there_?"

"Yup." Sakura hops off her bike and stuffs it in the bike rack. "We sure are."

Tenten looks at her a moment before parking her own bike, still a bit perplexed. "What do you need from _here_?"

"Um . . . stuff." Sakura explains vaguely, shrugging, pretending not to see Tenten's eyebrows hitch.

"Since when do _you_ exercise?" Tenten suddenly laughs, "If I would have known you needed activewear, you could have just borrowed my whole closet!"

As Tenten is nearly a _black belt_ in martial arts, she's as fit as a fiddle. Sakura has no doubt her closet is filled with every activewear imaginable—ranging from Nike spandex shorts to Adidas underwear—she probably has every brand name under the sun. And although Tenten's offer is generous, Sakura politely turns her down.

"Thanks, Tenten," She says with a shake of her head and an apologetic smile, "But I should probably get some of my own."

Tenten shrugs and flashes her an exuberant grin. "If you say so! Just let me know if you need anything, okay? Seriously, Sakura, I've got tons!"

As they stand on the sidewalk before the storefront, as Sakura takes in the genuine kindness softening her friend's expression, guilt squeezes her stomach. Perhaps she should confide in Tenten; tell her everything that's been plaguing her mind and destroying her from the inside out since this entire shit-show began.

She wants to tell her about Ino, about how she told her to never speak to her again. Wants to tell her about Sasuke and the things he dared to call her. Wants to tell her how she made a crazy catch that somehow, _somehow_, landed her on the team of all teams.

Wants to tell her that she's made a promise to the baseball captain—a promise she's afraid she isn't strong enough to keep.

But just as Sakura opens her mouth to tell her all of this, Tenten skips to the double doors and holds one open with a smile, jerking her head to the side. "Well, whatcha waiting for? Let's get you some hot new spanks!"

A grin breaks across Sakura's face and she beams, more than happy to set aside her troubles in favor of shopping and follow her friend inside.

"_Way_ ahead of you, Tenten."

༺º༻

Sasuke grabs a water bottle because that's all he needs for lunch.

Ignoring the sea of heart-eyes and envious glares that follow his every move, he cooly strides across the cafeteria to his table, one hand shoved in his pocket. He knows he should probably eat something, knows a water bottle isn't _nearly_ enough, especially for someone as athletic and physically active as himself, but lately his appetite has been nonexistent. Not that it's anything new, as this time of year is always the hardest for him—and will forever be.

As he draws near his table, his ears perk up when he sees his team huddled forward, speaking low and careful as if the topic they're discussing is top secret. Sasuke slows, realizing they have yet to notice his approach. But when he picks up bits and pieces of their conversation, with a spark of rage, he realizes they're talking about _him_.

He stops a good distance away, listening.

"—think we should ask him?" Kiba asks quietly.

Naruto lightly shakes his head, azure eyes serious and lacking their usual shine. "I don't think we should bother him about it." he whispers, "I think Sasuke's got a lot on his mind right now—especially since . . . well, you know."

"Yeah . . ." Suigetsu adds softly, eyes glued to the table. "I don't think he'd be exactly _chipper_ if we brought _it_ up."

"Do you think he's alright?" Sai wants to know, frowning.

Everyone exchanges uncertain glances with a shrug.

"You know how he gets every year." Shikamaru reminds them carefully, "It is almost the anniversary, after all."

Something dark coils inside Sasuke's stomach at those words, squeezing his throat. The plastic water bottle crinkles in his tightening fist. And then he stalks over to them, unable to listen anymore, ignoring the way they immediately lean away from each other when they see him. He promptly sits between Naruto and Sai.

There's a silence in which Sasuke knows they're all feigning nonchalance; pretending as if they hadn't just been discussing his personal business. Seven pairs of eyes avert their gaze and Sasuke grinds his teeth angrily.

"Hey, bastard." Naruto greets with a chuckle, a little _too_ casually.

Sasuke unscrews the cap of his water bottle with more force than necessary and drinks half of its contents in one sitting. They're being so obvious it's insulting. Do they think he's fucking _stupid_?

Out of nowhere, clearly trying to lighten the atmosphere, Suigetsu announces cheerfully: "I think the Ginger likes me."

"Oh_, really_?" Kiba encourages, slit eyes sparkling with interest, more than happy with the change of subject. "What makes you say that?"

Suigetsu leans forward, lips stretching with a mischievous grin. "She accepted my friend request on _Snapchat_. She saw the meme I sent her and told me to fuck off, but I think she's just playing hard to get."

"Or she just thinks you're an asshole." Neji tells him smoothly. "In which case, you _are_."

Suigetsu scoffs as if he's no such thing, but Sasuke knows he might have just taken it to heart because Neji is a lot of things, but a liar isn't one of them. "I'm just having fun with her." He says defensively, popping a rice ball in his mouth. "She knows I'm kidding."

"Does she?" Neji asks.

"Well _yeah_," Suigetsu says as if it's the most obvious concept on the planet. "Why would she not? Besides," he looks over his shoulder at where the red-head in question sits, only to grin when he sees scarlet eyes glaring back. "she's . . . actually pretty cute when she's mad. And she always responds, too. Never leaves me on read." He looks back to the team. "That has to mean something, right?"

Neji shakes his head in exasperation.

"What about you?" Suigetsu asks him instead, "How's it going with that chick with the buns?"

"Her name is Tenten." Neji corrects, stirring a spoon languidly around his small bowl of miso soup. "And fine."

"Just _fine_?" Suigetsu looks skeptical, purple eyes narrowing with interest, hungry for details.

"That's what I said."

"She doesn't blow your phone up or try and slip you nudes?"

Neji stiffens, coughing on the spoonful of soup he's just put in his mouth, pink just barely blooming on his defined cheekbones.

"_Does_ she?"

"_No_." Neji bites out when he finally swallows, fist clenching on the tabletop.

"Well, _my_ partner is really mean," Naruto pouts, deciding to join the conversation. "Uno told me if I ever mentioned ramen again, she'd shove a boiled egg up my ass." With fear in his eyes as if he can physically imagine the experience, he visually shudders before emphasizing, "My _ass_!"

There's a lot of visuals Sasuke can handle, but that certainly isn't one of them. He mentally bleaches his eye sockets.

"Well Hinata is a blessing from above." Kiba says, waggling his eyebrows with a smirk. "Or should I say . . ._ blessings_." He cups his hands out in front of him, holding imaginary boobs.

"She does have big breasts." Sai confirms.

"She does?" Naruto asks, eyebrows furrowed. He purses his lips in thought. "I didn't notice."

"Hinata is indeed well endowed." Shino adds quietly from down the table, cheeks tinged pink underneath black shades that hide his demureness.

"How the hell could you _not_ notice?" Kiba chomps a large bite of his ham and cheese sandwich and munches distractedly, eyebrows raising in disbelief as he shakes his head. "They're a little hard to miss."

"Not all of us are perverted dogs like you." Suigetsu jokes before taking a sip of his cola. "I thought she was really cute."

"Oh, _you're_ one to fucking talk," Kiba rolls his eyes half-heartedly, groaning through a full mouth. He swallows. "If I have to hear one more thing about how _bangin_' that red-head's body is, I might just have to do her myself—"

"Did any of you guys see that picture yesterday?" Shikamaru asks suddenly, changing the subject before he can lose his appetite. He turns to Naruto. "You and Sakura made breaking news on the bulletin board."

"Yeah, I saw it." Naruto confirms, scratching his head. "But I don't understand why someone would take a random picture of me and Sakura-chan. And then write _Baseball Barrett _on it."

"Baseball Bachelorette," Neji corrects, having seen it just as well.

Naruto opens his mouth—

"What's a Baseball Bachelorette?" Sai wants to know, inky eyes gleaming with curiosity. "Are you guys implying that Sakura is a whore?"

"Whoah," Suigetsu stops him right there, blinking incredulously. "_Nobody_ said that."

"Hey! What did you just say about Sakura-chan?!" Naruto exclaims, leaping straight out of his seat and turning several heads in their direction.

Sasuke slaps a rough palm on Naruto's shoulder and shoves him right back down, "Don't make such a scene, _dumbass_."

Naruto leaps right back to his feet with fists balled dangerously at his sides and barks in the Uchiha's ear, "Don't tell me what to do, dickhead!"

Sasuke simply leans away from the obnoxious blond, twisting a pinky in his nearly damaged eardrum and closes his eyes with an irritated scowl. "I wouldn't have to tell you what to do if you weren't such a loud mouthed loser."

"WHAT DID YOU JUST CALL ME?!"

By now, their table has drawn the attention of the entire cafeteria.

"**_Usuratonkachi_**." Sasuke enunciates, unruffled by the perilous flames crackling in the blond's cerulean irises and the angry flush of his fox-like face. The captain is far more annoyed by the sea of curious eyes around them gleaming with anticipation and—dare he say—excitement. "Sit. _Down_."

Naruto plops into his seat with a searing pout, arms crossed. "Fine, I will!" He then stabs a finger at Sasuke, nearly poking him in the face. "And not because you told me too, either!"

The speed and force in which Sasuke smacks his hand away has the blond spluttering a string of colorful insults.

"Keep your hand out of my face." Sasuke hisses.

Across the table, Kiba grimaces, ignoring his friends' usual quarrel with ease as he looks to Sai, "Really, Sai? I mean, you're one of my best friends, man. But for once, just think about what you're going to say before you blurt the first damn thing on your mind."

Sai frowns as if he's not sure what he's said to evoke such a negative reaction from his friends. "Sorry."

"It was implied by whoever took the photo and wrote the slur." Shikamaru explains casually, scratching the back of his tuft ponytail. "It was meant to be demeaning. Someone clearly isn't a fan of Sakura's personal involvement with you"—he nods at the still bristling Naruto, and then the irritated Uchiha—"or you."

Obsidian eyes flash with warning at the implication. "She isn't—"

"Well, whatever." Suigetsu interrupts, shrugging passively, wiping stray rice pellets from his unwrinkled blazer and adjusts his tie. "I don't care what bullshit KHS has to say about Pinky," He decides, taking another generous bite of his meal. Through a mouthful of rice, he says happily, "I think she fits right in. You know? Pink hair and all."

"Yeah, I love Sakura-chan!" Naruto chirps casually, a twinkle in his blue eyes and bright in his honesty. "She's really pretty and an amazing catcher! And now that she's on the team, she can join us in the Basement, too!"

Sasuke stares at him blankly, and then turns to asses the rest of his team's reaction at the idiot's bold confession. But they're all nodding in agreement, obviously seconding his statement. Sasuke suddenly gets the feeling he's the only one adverse to his new pink haired player.

Sasuke then looks across the table and beyond Suigetsu's shoulder, eyes naturally searching the cafeteria for the girl in question. He knows exactly where she sits, as he's caught her not-so-secret glances more times than he can count. She isn't very good at being subtle.

(He supposes her bravery makes up for that tiny flaw.)

But when he finds her table, scans over each of the girls chatting amiably amongst themselves—save for the pouting blonde who glowers down at her innocent salad as if its just slapped her ass—he frowns when he has yet to find a head of pink hair and an obnoxiously yellow ribbon.

He looks to the lunch line, craning his neck a little to see if he's somehow missed her hiding behind a sea of students—she _is_ short, after all. But she's not there. He then looks over his shoulder, obsidian eyes trailing over every head, every table, stomach churning with every passing moment that he doesn't find _pink, pink, pink, pink_—

"Who are you looking for?"

Sasuke jerks his head forward, flustered by his own desperation to find her. He lies through the small blossom of heat creeping into his cheeks. "Nobody."

Neji hitches an eyebrow, unconvinced.

Ignoring him, hard obsidian drop to the table. For a long moment, his eyebrows slightly nudge together in confusion, before icy dread suddenly explodes inside his empty stomach. Talons of panic claw at the seams of his heart when something finally dawns on him, alarm bells going off everywhere inside his head. He stares down at his dented water bottle, nostrils slightly flaring, completely frozen in shock.

Because she isn't _here_.

And if Sakura isn't here, there's a high probability she isn't going to show at practice _either_.

Naturally, Sasuke assumes the worst. He instantly jumps to conclusions; emotions overriding all sense, sweeping over him like a tsunami of trepidation. Overthinking—because all the words he cannot say cram inside his head until it manifests into a catastrophic tempest of emotion he cannot control.

Although his features remain outwardly cool, totally aloof and unbothered to anyone who might bear witness to his inner strife, an irrational whirlwind of thoughts cyclone through his mind, each one worst than the last.

Did she quit already? Had she decided he had been too harsh and threw in the towel before she had even begun? Did he fuck everything up yesterday by running away like an idiot before he even heard her out? Did she skip school on purpose?

Is she—_avoiding_ him?

_Is she at home, crying? _An irrationally unwanted voice whispers in the darkest corner of his mind, churning his stomach with dread.

He doesn't want to think about it, doesn't want to imagine her crying at home wrapped up in her blankets, or crying at all. The idea is disturbing—hell, the idea of even _caring_ about whether she's actually crying or not is disturbing. How she chooses to handle her personal problems isn't his concern.

_She_ isn't his concern.

And then, with a start, he remembers that she's a part of _his_ team. (A fact that almost escapes him just now in his determination to brush off her feelings like a bug on his shoulder.)

She's an official player, and as the captain, that now makes her_ his concern_.

Sasuke's teeth clench and he closes his eyes in frustration.

_But_, he stubbornly argues with himself, desperate to prove his own logic wrong, _just because she's on the team doesn't mean I have to care about her personal wellbeing. Thinking of her personal feelings and thinking of her irrelatively to baseball is—well, _irrelevant_. _

He blinks.

_Right . . . ?_

Cocking his head marginally to the side, Sasuke genuinely, completely, and totally confuses himself.

If it was Naruto, Suigetsu, or any of the other players avoiding him or, god forbid, _crying_—it would concern him, even if it had nothing to do with baseball. But that's because they're his friends.

So . . .

Is _Sakura_ his friend?

Other than her random confession about her career choice and her desire to have—to have . . . to do_ that_ with him, he personally doesn't even know the first thing about her. So no, he decides, she isn't his friend.

The edges of his lips tighten with a frown._ Kami fucking Sama, how is she still so annoying when she's not even here?_

Eyes still closed and headache slowly forming, he impatiently massages the bridge of his nose, attempting to think of anything other than green eyes that may or may not be crying at home because of _him_.

However, much to his dismay, the fire in her green orbs stirs in his memory instead. Blazing with sincerity, burning with a passion so pure it was breathtaking. The lioness beneath sheep's clothing—it was _there, _he remembers. An inner strength beyond her years hidden behind shy green eyes.

A heavy, defeated breath escapes his lips. Sasuke might not be her friend, but he can't personally disregard her feelings completely—not like he wants to.

Maybe it's because she's so much like himself, as strange as the conception is to consider. The reflection of his younger self within her is uncanny, even a bit terrifying. The understanding, the _empath_y, he feels towards her is uncomfortably bizarre.

Sasuke wants to deny it.

And yet, against all odds, the similarities are indisputable.

Because like him, once upon a time—back when baseball wasn't the only thing keeping him sane, back when baseball wasn't _all he had left_—Sakura knew she had something to prove. And like him, once upon a time, she did exactly that.

The only difference is that, unlike him, she wasn't aiming to prove her worth to a father that had already deemed her worthless long before she ever caught a ball.

But because Sasuke is nothing like his father, because he can acknowledge strength and courage the way it's _supposed_ to be recognized and praised, he has no choice but to honor Sakura with the respect she rightfully earned.

Respect that he himself, in another context, once yearned for in the eyes of someone he admired.

If he was being honest with himself—and he seldom is—to say he was proud would do her no justice. Watching her race across that field with wind in her hair and a smile on her face filled him with something inexplainable; unrivaled by anything he's ever felt before. Warm, pleasant, and so entirely unexpected, the moment that ball hit her glove was the moment he knew.

He had known right then, just as he knows now, that Sakura was more than just a strange girl with pink hair and doe eyes.

And he had known right then, just as he knows now, that he had been wrong.

Not that she ever needs to know this.

She might not be his friend, she might be irritating, she might be the most annoying girl he's ever had the _pleasure_ of meeting, and she might have thrown the dirtiest note his eyes have ever read at his goddamn _head_—but she has his attention and that's already far more than he's ever given any girl.

But even as it echoes in his mind, her promise mocks him alongside the message of her absence. A middle finger to the respect that had only _just_ sprouted somewhere in the emptiness of his heart. A shred of something more.

Eyes pinched shut, fists tightening at his sides, his heart plummets at the reminder.

Because she _promised_.

She promised him; she promised all of them.

When he opens his eyes and looks to his team, his _friends_—sees the relaxed smiles and serene expressions on their faces as they animatedly talk about Sakura amongst theirselves—he dreads the disappointment he will no doubt see in their eyes when he tells them she _lied_. The hurt in their eyes when they realize she's let them all down.

Because baseball is everything to them. Despite all their differences, baseball is the one thing they collectively share as a whole, as a team, and as brothers. It's more than a game, more than a sport—it's more than winning a shiny trophy that will collect dust on his shelf next to the countless others for years to come. It's an important part of them all.

But without nine players . . .

Without _Sakura_ . . .

They can't **play**.

Sure, they could attempt to hold try-outs in the middle of the season, they could try and find a replacement. Except, centerfield is one of the most important positions in the game. They can't just use _anyone_. Like Lee, it has to be someone fast. Someone who can catch a 100MPH ball flying overhead. (And that's seriously no easy feat.)

It just so happens Sakura can do just that.

Needless to say, he grudgingly admits to himself that without her, they are royally fucked.

And she has the nerve, the _audacity_, to stand them up.

Rage fills him next, boiling within his blood like hot lava, a tea kettle threatening to explode beneath a trembling lid, because _nobody_ stands up the captain of KHS. (Nobody who lives to tell the tale.)

"_Where is she?_" He asks suddenly, deceivingly calm, interrupting whatever it was Shino had been quietly explaining to them. His voice nearly wavers in his barely contained fury, but everyone is too puzzled to notice.

Seven pairs of eyes stare at him.

"Where is _who_?" Naruto asks stupidly, as if they hadn't just been discussing the damn girl.

"Where is **_Sakura_**?" He hisses her name like a curse, injects as much malice as vocally possibly into those three syllables.

"Uh," Suigetsu looks around to see if anyone's as confused as he is by the captain's sudden psychopathic demeanor, infernal black flames practically roaring around his whole body. "How the hell are we supposed to know?"

"She's—" Naruto cranes his neck to glance around the cafeteria, azure eyes squinting as he scans the room. And then his blond eyebrows furrow in confusion when his search comes up short. "Absent?"

"Was she in Biology?" Sasuke feels like an idiot for not even noticing.

"Um, I don't _think_ so." Naruto purses his lips, trying to remember. "Why?"

"_Dammit_." Sasuke habitually pinches the bridge of his nose, massaging the sensitive skin as if the action can somehow calm the thrashing sea inside him. (It never does.)

"What's your deal?" The blond asks, offended by his best friend's vague response and prickly rude self. "Why the hell do _you_ need to know where she is?"

Without thinking, Sasuke whips out his phone. For a fraction of a second, something inside of him hopes that her name might already read across the screen, texting him to apologize profusely like he has become accustomed to her doing in such a short period of time.

_'Sorry about last night, I didn't mean anything I said, Sasuke-kun. See you at practice?' _He imagines her message will read, with that soft, sheepish smile on her lips just on the other side of the phone.

The physical pang of disappointment that jolts through him when his notification screen shows him no such text has his jaw tensing.

At the realization that he might have really just blew it this time, he opens his contacts and scrolls right to **Sakura Haruno**.

But his thumb hovers over her name, uncharacteristic in his hesitation, wondering if he should even bother, if he's wasting his time. He shouldn't have to text her; ultimately it comes down to whether or not she chooses to show.

Drawing a heavy breath, obsidian eyes swimming with conflict and loathing the effect she has on him without even _trying_, he finally decides on a single message.

_'Where are you?'_

He slips the phone back into his pocket and stands up. Disregarding the bizarre glances his friends exchange, he strides across the cafeteria to throw his half-empty water bottle in the trash for something to do with himself. Something to tame the turbulent anxiety in his bones.

Then, standing in the middle of the cafeteria, Sasuke looks up. The bright fluorescent lights above reflect in the grey-flecked pools of his eyes, glistening with a sliver of vulnerability he hasn't let himself feel in a very, very long time.

He closes his eyes.

_Don't let me down, Sakura._

༺º༻

. . . _Please_.

༺º༻

"What about this one?"

Sakura looks up to examine the bright red spandex leggings Tenten holds up with sparkling eyes from across the clothing rack. She isn't adverse to the color, in fact it's one of her favorites, but it isn't _KHS_ colors, and so Sakura shakes her head with an apologetic smile.

"Come on, Sakura!" Tenten groans, stuffing the pants back onto the rack. "You're so picky. We've been in here for over an _hour_ and you haven't picked out a single thing! What gives?"

Sakura cringes, knowing Tenten is oblivious to the fact that the reason she's having trouble deciding on anything is because she has no idea what to wear to _baseball practice_. Are there things she's not allowed to wear? Are there things she's _supposed_ to wear? She wishes she would have asked Sasuke, but then harrumphs at the reminder that he simply told her to _'make something work'_.

Fantastic, Sasuke. Really, that narrows it down. Her lower lip juts in a pout just thinking about him, dark clouds just beginning to gather overhead when—

"What's wrong?"

Sakura snaps at attention, laughing sheepishly as if she had just been casually spacing out. "Oh, nothing." She continues to paw absently through the clothes on the rack, pretending as if Tenten isn't narrowing her eyes suspiciously in her peripherals. Studying an ugly electric-blue top as if it's caught her interest, she hopes and prays Tenten doesn't—

"Liar."

_Dammit._

Still avoiding Tenten's scrutinizing gaze, fear quakes in her stomach and her fingers tremble as she mindlessly slides several hangers of clothes to the side. She doesn't look at any of them. Instead, she focuses on the nausea that whorls through her body, threatening to swallow her whole.

"Sakura?" She finally looks up underneath thick lashes, green eyes shimmering with guilt to meet Tenten's concerned frown. "Seriously, what's wrong?"

To her horror, as if that single question paired with the genuine concern on her friend's face punctures the mental dam she's erected to hold everything back, hot tears suddenly prickle her eyes and her throat constricts until it's so painfully tight that Sakura can't breathe. Her lips tremble, eyes fighting to blink back the waterfall of tears threatening to burst forth.

Because _everything's_ wrong.

She and Ino should still be friends. She shouldn't have written that note. She shouldn't have screamed in her face. She shouldn't have sent that text. She shouldn't have touched herself to a boy who couldn't give a shit less about her. Sasuke shouldn't have called her names. Nobody should have taken a picture of she and Naruto and _plastered_ it all over the wall for the world to see. She should have let that ball hit Ami square in the forehead. She shouldn't be on the KHS baseball team, shouldn't be where she doesn't belong. Dad shouldn't be far away and Mom shouldn't be gone.

Sakura breaks down in the middle of the store.

She bursts into tears—everything she has bottled up, everything she has held in and everything she hadn't even known was tearing her apart shatters her into a million pieces and she cries.

Tenten inhales sharply, eyes blowing wide with fright at the sudden alarming state of her friend and she races around the other side of the clothing rack, yanking Sakura right into her arms.

"Hey, hey, hey—!" Tenten squabbles breathlessly, completely shook. Warm arms tighten around her trembling frame and she sobs harder into Tenten's shoulder. "Hey, everything's gonna be alright! Just breathe!" A consoling hand rubs at her back, fighting off tears of her own at the fallen state of her cheerful friend. "It's okay, Sakura!"

She sniffles and hiccups, clutching onto Tenten as if she's the only thing keeping her from falling completely apart. "Ino—!" She gasps between sobs into Tenten's shoulder, "S-Sasuke-kun—!" And then she desperately cries out, voice breaking alongside her heart, "_Mom_!"

Tenten's features grimace in anguish and she squeezes Sakura as if the action can protect her from all that hurts her so. They stay like this for a long time, latching onto each other like there's nothing and nobody else in the world. Like they aren't in the middle of a public store, like they aren't being warily glanced at by the few patrons who browse amongst themselves, eyes curiously peeking over the racks.

When the tears finally begin to slow and dry, after what feels like centuries, Sakura hesitantly pulls away with a sniffle—but Tenten grabs her shoulders, halting her from backing away any further. Hard, brown eyes glisten with unshed tears as she levels their gaze, frantically searching green eyes for an answer.

"Talk to me." Tenten tells her. "I'm right here."

So she does.

She tells Tenten everything, right then and there.

And it feels incredible. She exhales all of her troubles as she explains everything, as if saying it out loud and throwing it all out in the open lifts a weight off her chest she hadn't even known had been weighing her down. It's cathartic, unimaginable in its relief, and by the time Sakura finishes, she finds that she can suddenly breathe again.

When all is said and done, tears still sticky on her cheeks and eyes still swollen, she watches the shock on Tenten's expression and waits for it. There's a pulsing silence. Sakura holds her breath, heart rate kicking up speed. _Any second now_ . . . Any second—

"You _WHAT_?!" Tenten explodes, eyes wider than the moon in her appall. Sakura plugs her ears with a wince despite expecting exactly this. "Sakura you did _wh_—you joined the—?!"

"_Shhh_!" Sakura shushes her furiously, waving a quick hand as if her friend's screech can be heard all the way from KHS. Green eyes dart around the store anxiously and she whispers, "You can't tell anybody yet!"

Tenten flounders, unable to grasp anything Sakura's just told her, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Then, finally, she says slowly, "No way . . ."

"_Way_." Sakura confirms with a glum nod, "So here I am, blindly shopping for _activewear_ because _someone_—"

Her phone _'ping!'_s inside her satchel. It's probably Karin asking where the hell she is today, and with Tenten missing just as well, she knows the red-head is most likely pouting in their mysterious shared absence. So she ignores it.

"—has a stick up his ass. You know what he told me?" She perches her hands on her hips, eyebrows cinching as she does her best to mimic his sensually dark voice (and fails miserably): "_Make something work._"

Still recovering from the shock, Tenten merely blinks in response. Then, when she finally registers Sakura's words, after several moments in which everything sinks in, something sly flashes across her chocolate eyes and the corner of her lips curve with an impish smirk. "Oh, we'll make something work alright."

"Huh?"

Sakura gulps, taking a step backward when Tenten takes one forward, absolute _mischief_ written all over her pretty features as her smirk widens.

_I've got a bad feeling about this. _

"Don't worry, Sakura. I've got just the thing."

༺º༻

"Tenten are you _sure_ this is . . . okay for me to wear?"

"Of course!" comes Tenten's cheerful reply from the other side of the fitting room door. She coos puckishly, voice amplified as if she's pressed up against the wooden slab: "The captain will _love_ it. Besides, if you're going to be running around chasing balls, you're gonna need an outfit that allows for wide range of motion. It's totally perfect!"

Sakura studies herself in the full length mirror, turning this way and that, feeling terribly self-conscious. Her lips tug into a frown, scrutinizing every dip and curve of her half exposed body, wondering if Tenten might just be going overboard. She turns slightly, lifting her hips to check out the curve of her rear.

"I'm telling you," Tenten carries on with a smile in her voice. "The guys aren't gonna know what hit 'em. The outfit's a _Grandslam._"

Sakura slaps a hand to her mouth with a restrained giggle, trying not to encourage Tenten's goofy antics.

The second she opens the door to let her friend inside the room, Tenten's expression lights up with dazzling delight, eyes twinkling as she lets out a low whistle, nodding in approval as she looks Sakura up and down. "You look fantastic!"

"Are you sure . . . ?" Sakura replies slowly, unease spreading along her gut. "Do you think Sasuke-kun would be . . . mad about this? Maybe I should change—"

"No!" Tenten gasps, offended. She grabs both of Sakura's shoulders, expression resolute. "You look so good, Sakura, I promise. And who cares if that arrogant butthead is mad; he's the one who said '_make something work_', right?" Releasing her shoulders, she gestures to her fashion masterpiece. "And just look at you! You're definitely making something work alright! You're an absolute bombshell. Sasuke has zero reason to be upset—he didn't even tell you what you need in the first place, right? It's totally fine. Besides, after what he said to you?" Tenten scowls, crossing her arms. "I hope his brain fries the moment he sees you." Out of the corner of her mouth, she grumbles: "_That jerk_."

"You know what?" Sakura blinks, a sudden confidence blooming in her heart at her friend's words. "You're right. You're seriously the best, Tenten. I'm so happy you're here with me because I don't know what I'd do without you." Sakura grins and turns to scan her reflection once more. Her hands smooth down the bare curve of her waist and the flat expanse of her stomach before she perches on her tippy-toes, cupping her bottom.

Okay, so maybe she _does_ look pretty good. She lifts her knee and gives her ass a good hard _slap! _

The sound reverberates in the acoustics of the small room and they both crack up laughing. And as they laugh all throughout the rest of the store, trying on ugly cleats and baseball helmets for shits-and-giggles, testing out bats and almost knocking over and entire display when she attempts to demonstrate how she accidentally took down Sasuke Uchiha with a single blow; Sakura forgets all about her troubles, forgets all about her worries. She smiles brightly—head thrown back with every giggle, carefree and heart soaring in her friend's healing presence.

They unknowingly spend almost the whole day in the store, and when she and Tenten finally make it to the registers, they're still huffing in laughter.

"—and Neji drove past my house like, _six_ times!" Tenten manages through snorts of laughter, cheeks red and tears of mirth glistening in the corners of her eyes. "I had to go stand out in my driveway and flag him down, waving my arms like a lunatic so that he'd see me!" She holds her stomach, choking on her giggles. "And then—and then he tried to say that he saw my house the whole time and that he _intentionally_ missed it." She wipes at her eyes, a gigantic smile splitting her face. "Gods, it was so funny, Sakura. You should have seen the look on his face."

Sakura shakes her head with a sobering grin, cheek muscles aching from overuse as she sets down the colorful elements of her uniform as well as a glove, a duffel bag, and a pair of squeaky clean cleats on the countertop.

The clerk, a young spritely-looking woman with purple hair and a name tag that reads '_Anko_', offers them a friendly smile as she rings everything up. "You two sure seem to be having a lot of fun today." She bags up the purchases and slides them across the counter with a wink. "But I guess it's easy to lose track of time when you're shopping with your friends, right? I can't believe it's already almost four o' clock. That's when I get off, you know. All I can think about are my sweet dumplings waiting for me back at home." She sighs dreamily, eyes glazing over with delicious daydreams filled with sticky syrup and sweet dough. Shaking free of her yummy thoughts, she grins. "Have a good day, okay?"

"You too." Sakura offers kindly, scooping up the plastic bags with a smile. She's just about to turn away when something registers, stomach tightening in a knot.

She freezes mid-step.

_Wait a second. _

Slowly, warily, she turns back around to face the young woman, hoping against hope that she just heard incorrectly. "Um. What did you say?"

"Have a good day!" Anko repeats cheerfully.

Sakura shakes her head, "No, no—before that."

"I have these _delicious_ dumplings—"

"What time did you say it was?" Her heartbeat threatens to kick up speed, dread burrowing its way into her gut.

"Oh, it's almost four o' clock!"

_No_ . . .

Sakura's eyes widen with a gasp before she suddenly drops all of her newly purchased equipment to the floor in favor of viciously digging through her satchel, fingers fumbling for her phone. There's no way they've been in here that long. There's no way—

"Sakura?" Tenten asks carefully, "What's the matter?"

Chest heaving, she finally whips out her phone, shriveling in fright when she sees _his_ name across her screen, and then the time that reads **3:51PM**. She feels sick.

_'Where are you?'_

No, no, no, no—_NO_!

"Fuck!" She curses, smacking her forehead so hard there's sure to be a mark. "Fuck, Tenten, I'm_—_what have I done?!"

The girl in question startles at Sakura's hyperventilation and braces herself, worried that her friend might just break down again.

But Sakura simply stares down at her phone long after the screen has fallen asleep, petrified.

Because she's going to be late to her first practice.

"I need to change and leave _right now_! He's going to kill me, Tenten." She croaks, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes as she frantically picks up her equipment. She promised him he wouldn't regret letting her join the team and yet she can't even make it to her first practice on time? "Oh god he's going to _kill_ me."

She can already see the irritation burning in his obsidian eyes.

The _disappointment_.

Without warning, Sakura scoops up her bags and bolts into the changing rooms, throwing on her 'uniform'. She stuffs her former clothes into her new duffel bag and slings it over her shoulder in a flurry, not sparing her reflection even a glance before zooming back out.

But before she can bolt out the front doors, a firm grip snatches her wrist, halting her in the midst of her panic.

Sakura whips her head over her shoulder in surprise, gasping at the heavy seriousness in Tenten's eyes.

"Before you go," She begins before Sakura can part her lips in question, voice firm and sincere. "Just remember that no matter what Sasuke says, no matter what happened with Ino, no matter what KHS has to say about you . . . "

Brown eyes soften with unwavering fondness.

"I will always be here for you, anytime you need me. I know you miss your dad. I know you miss your mom. And I know this stuff with Ino has been really hard on you, and this stuff with Sasuke has been even harder, but you are seriously the bravest person I've ever met. You made it onto the KHS _baseball_ team, Sakura! I mean, come on! How _cool_ is that?!" She laughs despite the tears glazing her brown eyes, despite the walls of her throat aching with every word. "You of all people know how hard it is for someone to make the team, and yet . . . you _did_ it. So don't worry about that promise you made, okay?"

As she continues, the grip on her wrist tightens slightly with her next words. "When you put your heart into it, there is nothing you can't do, Sakura. So don't focus on Ino right now, don't even focus on Sasuke, and definitely don't focus on KHS. Don't you dare let these people knock you down and dull your shine just because they can't control their anger and jealousy. You are worth so much more than the pain they make you feel. If Mrs. Haruno could see you now, she'd be so proud of how strong you've been. How strong you _are_. Right?" Tenten chuckles, giving her wrist a reassuring squeeze. "You know she'd have had a field day with this!"

Sakura's lips quiver with her shallow laugh, picturing Mom's bright face as she darts around the kitchen, whipping up every dessert in the world in celebration of her daughter joining the baseball team, no matter how crazy or silly the idea.

_'Mom, this is too much!' _She'd complain through stifled giggles.

_'Are you kidding?' _Mom would gasp playfully, already taking out the sugar and flour. _'This is so exciting. I'll even make your favorite cake in the shape of a baseball. How does that sound?'_

_'Like it's too much!' _Dad would say from around the corner, reaching out to ruffle her pink hair as he passes by, always taking her side.

_'Told you, Mom!'_

Mom would only laugh, like she always did_._

Another squeeze of the wrist brings Sakura back to earth as Tenten continues, Mom's laughter a fading echo in her memory. "What I'm just trying to say is . . . You just focus on being your best self, and take KHS by the throat. You're a total badass, and soon the whole world's gonna know it."

Tears tremble at the corner of Sakura's eyes and glide down her cheeks, and before Tenten can say another word, she throws herself into her arms, squeezing as hard as she can. "Thank you, Tenten." She whispers, squeezing her just a little tighter. The warmth in her chest pulses with deep gratitude. "_Thank you so much._"

With that, Sakura steps back, a genuine smile curving her lips. She sniffles, adjusting the thin straps of her bag on her shoulders.

Tenten nods with a humble grin.

"Good luck, Sakura."

Sakura nods in return, ready to take on the world, pumping a determined fist. "I'm gonna give it my all."

_For you._

"I know you will."

_For Mom._

Then, she turns around and swiftly pushes through the double doors, pink ponytail disappearing into the white, blinding sunlight.

_For me._

And neither of them see the hidden, dark eyes that follow.

༺º༻

Sasuke paces the dugout like a panther in its cage, clawing a hand through his obsidian locks.

He checks his phone on the bench for the umpteenth time.

It's 4:07, and she still _isn't here_.

In the outfield, his team warms up by simply playing catch, unaware of the shit storm brewing in their captain's mind as he continues to pace, long legs prowling back and forth in the little brick shack.

The dread makes him nauseas, swimming within the pits of his gut in a whirlpool of anxiety.

He's ruined everything; he totally fucked up. He let down his entire team, all because some overbearing, lying girl is too sensitive for her own good.

Sasuke stops pacing.

_Well_ . . .

Okay, so maybe the names he called her yesterday were a little (a little?) harsh, and the fact that he completely blew off her attempt to explain herself at the restaurant isn't helping his case. It wasn't like she actually _knew_ why he was so upset. The bonus being her drenched in hot ramen broth and sticky noodles, tear tracks racing down her cheeks.

Inhaling sharply through his nose in frustration, running an impatient hand through his silky locks once more, Sasuke resumes his pacing.

So what is he supposed to do _now_?

Should he just . . .

Call her?

_No_, he smashes the preposterous idea before it can even properly sprout. He shouldn't have to call her! Sakura promised he wouldn't regret allowing her to join his team. If she doesn't show—

Well, then, she better have a _damn_ good reason. Because _she_ isn't the one who has to look his best friends in the face and tell them that the last season of their high school career is over. That they are a player too short, and thus have to forfeit Nationals all because their captain was dumb enough to trust some perverted klutz of a girl he doesn't even properly know.

Gods, what has he done?

Sasuke paces to the other side of the dugout and back, checking his phone once more on the way, and proceeds to nearly lose his mind. His heart sinks, all hope along with it, and there is nothing in the world that can possibly fix—

"What in God's name are you doing?"

Tensing in step, Sasuke glances over his shoulder, eyes flickering with apprehension behind disheveled bangs as he takes in Shikamaru's lax form leaning against the open threshold, hands in his pockets. Golden sunlight spills over one of his broad shoulders, while the other half of his sturdy body is sliced by the overhang's shadow.

A bored expression rests beneath the curved brim of a baseball cap.

"Get back to practice." The Uchiha clips, whole body stiff.

A single, lazy brow raises in response.

Sasuke turns to face him, attempting to assert some of his authority. "I said—"

"She'll be here."

An inaudible, strangled sound escapes his throat, shocked by Shikamaru's disturbing accuracy. Flustered, and maybe a little defensive, Sasuke scoffs, fists tightening at his sides. "I wasn't worried about _that_."

"Sakura promised you." Shikamaru continues, blatantly dismissing his captain's ridiculous attempt at hiding his panic. "So don't worry about it, she'll be here." He sounds so sure of himself, like there isn't a single doubt in the world that Sakura will not abandon them. As if he were an advisor assuring his leader that their insane battle tactic will see them through to victory. There's a confidence that blazes in his heavy-lidded eyes that, for a moment, makes Sasuke question his own doubt.

They hold each other's gaze, one filled with conflicting agitation and the other with lackadaisical calm.

Sasuke's shoulders slacken marginally, even if Shikamaru's words do not ease him in the slightest. It doesn't change the fact that practice started nearly ten minutes ago and she's still no where to be found.

"And just what makes you think I care if she shows or not?" The cold, stubborn words are out of his mouth before he can stop them, unable to control his defensive tongue with panic still trembling through his veins.

"Nice hair." Shikamaru shrugs, pushing off the brick threshold, hands still buried in his pockets. "Suits you."

With that, Shikamaru simply walks off.

Confused onyx eyes trailing after him, Sasuke blinks twice at his friend's retreating form.

_Nice hair? What's wrong with my—?_

He swipes his phone off the bench, opening the front camera to see his hairdo for himself.

The second he sees himself, however, his eyes widen, ears burning bright red at the wild, disheveled spikes that look like he's just been struck by lightening sixty times. With as many times as he's ran a hand through his hair in his distress, his obsidian locks have become an insanely absurd thatch of spikes that can only resemble a tumbleweed.

Cursing Shikamaru (and himself), he hurriedly shakes the mess out of his hair, fixing it frantically before anyone can see the physical evidence of his weakness. Smoothing down his tousled bangs, the embarrassment he feels at being caught contradicting himself makes him scowl, pride cracking right down the middle.

_"Sasuke-kun!"_

The phone clatters to the bench.

Loosening a breath, relief beyond comprehension ripples over him at the sound of her sweet voice, wave after wave of serenity swallowing the sickening worry he felt only moments ago.

Chest heaving, he practically runs out of the dugout, a cupped palm to his forehead shielding his squinting eyes from the sun. In the distance, her pink head of hair and eagerly waving hand makes its way towards the field.

"Sakura-chan!" Naruto calls from the outfield through a winning smile over his shoulder, before throwing the ball back to Suigetsu. "You made it!"

_She's late_, Sasuke reminds himself angrily_, _but there is no room for anger in his heart when only moments ago he was so afraid that she wouldn't even show. He straightens his posture, forcing his body language to communicate a striking authority he doesn't necessarily feel in this moment.

Because nothing matters now, she is _here_. She is here and she isn't a liar. She is here, and _he_ would be lying if he said he didn't want to grab her by the shoulders and shake the hell out of her for letting him go out of his mind with worry. Really, how hard is it to send him a single text?! It's not like she ever had trouble doing that _before! _

A heavy sigh escapes his lips.

But his relief is short lived, however, when Sakura's form draws closer.

Onyx eyes narrow slowly, before they shoot wide in horror.

_What the f—?_

"Hey! What the hell is _she_ doing here dressed like _that_?!" A shrill voice screams from the bleachers, where Ami and her friends sit huddled together. "What the absolute fuck is she wearing?!"

In the outfield, Naruto double takes, cerulean eyes bursting out of his skull when he registers the sight of their pink haired player. An unsuspecting baseball hits the idiot in the face.

Heart dropping like a rock into his stomach, Sasuke swallows, unable to tear his horrified gaze from her half naked body.

No_ . . . _

_Fucking . . . _

**Way**_. _

Every head turns in her direction, mouths popping open, baseballs dropping to the grass—forgotten.

Wide, obsidian eyes travel up her form drawing closer, taking in one element of her _uniform_ at a time.

Underneath the bright sun, navy blue cleats step in front of one another with a risqué finesse that would put a Covergirl model to shame.

Soft yellow knee-high socks hug her slender calves. Creamy thighs are exposed beneath the shortest, tightest, greenest spandex shorts he's ever seen—clinging to the deep sway of her curved hips.

Swallowing audibly, his eyes then lift to the bare expanse of her deliciously flat abdomen, to the dip of her belly button, up to the tight, little yellow cropped tee—where her perky breasts bounce beneath the constricting fabric with every step.

_Is she not even wearing a . . . _Mouth suddenly dry, he swallows again, struggling to even finish the thought . . . _a bra?!_

Even higher, a line of cleavage peeks out of the V-cut of her poor excuse of a shirt, as well as exposing the soft curve of her collarbones.

Little navy armbands wrap around her elbows; protection from only god knows how many times she's bound to fall.

She looks like she's just stepped off the page of a Sports Illustrated magazine.

The X-rated edition.

But it isn't just her ridiculous uniform in particular that has his stomach doing backflips.

It's the way she _moves_.

She struts with purpose; with a promise of perseverance in every step. The slow motion sway of her hips in time with the full sweep of her arms like she's just stepped onto the glittering platform of a runway, scrambles his mind.

There's a tittering commotion in the stands where the wretched girls squawk in confusion, along with a howling whistle and a few cat-calls from somewhere in the outfield, no doubt from Kiba or Suigetsu trying in vain to be funny; attempting to grab her attention.

But everything around Sasuke is muffled, unfocused, a blurred mosaic of color, because the girl sashaying toward him in slow motion, positively _glowing_ with beautiful confidence and half naked, is the only thing his mind can comprehend.

The blood drains straight from Sasuke's face and pools all the way down. Desperately adjusting his stance, heart free-falling inside his chest, moisture collects in his palms as she draws even closer.

Shoulders squared and brave, she holds her head high. Glossy locks that are pulled into a high ponytail by none other than that godawful yellow ribbon bounces lusciously behind her. The bangs framing her cheeks flutter around the bright, innocent smile on her face.

But the look in those jade orbs is _anything_ but innocent.

The sweet, timid Sakura he thought she was—is nowhere in sight. In her place is a woman with ambition, a woman with fire in her veins and zest in her eyes.

Fierce. Powerful. Strong.

Stripped of sheep's clothing.

The lioness in the flesh.

It only serves to make his blood pump faster, and a sudden, primal fire burns within the deepest depths of his loins as if it were splayed over crackling embers.

A striking desire to touch her makes his fingers twitch and brain short circuit.

Sakura's smile widens when she finally comes to a stop before him, a smug hand on her jutting hip. Obsidian eyes still unblinking, he stares down at her—at this stranger, this woman, this _Sakura_ that is making his blood boil with an intensity that rattles his bones.

And at the cleavage he can see perfectly from this angle.

Sasuke pales, all blood having flown downward, pupils dilating against the sun-flecked grey of his eyes.

A swift, strategic hand covers his left thigh, mortified by his own arousal beginning to strain against his taut pants.

Oblivious to his misery, Sakura looks up into his face, the corners of her smile faltering with guilt. Then, her gaze drops sheepishly, adjusting the thin straps on her shoulders—a duffel bag on her back that he hadn't even noticed—before fiddling with her fingers in her lap. "Sorry I was late, Sasuke-kun. I didn't realize what time it was." She glances up at him with big, round puppy eyes and cheeks flushed pink; the epitome of purity.

Heart racing, her apology falls on deaf ears as he involuntarily ogles her whole body, eyes desperately imprinting the image into his brain before he finally forces himself—with great effort—to look away.

"You—" he chokes out, keeping his gaze respectfully averted, staring hard at the sky, "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Huh?" A soft, innocent sound.

White teeth mashing together, jaw tightening, Sasuke reluctantly repeats himself, straining to focus on the clouds, the treetops in the distance, the flock of birds overhead, _anything_ but her exposed skin.

"Do you think . . ." Anger burns his throat, voice raw. ". . . That this is _funny_?" His fist curls at his side, shaking with the desire to take his shirt off and forcibly cover her up.

_She's out of her god damn mind. _

He takes back everything decent he thought about her previously. This girl is going to be the death of him.

(She needs a real uniform, ASAP.)

At this point, he wonders if she actually has a pair of rollerblades stuffed in that bag of hers.

When his arousal slightly begins to cool, Sasuke chances a look down at her face from the corner of his eye, genuinely surprised to see her pink brows furrowing with irritation.

"What the _hell_ are you talking about?" She demands, and it's only then, by the innocent annoyance on her face, that he realizes she really has _no idea what he's referring to_. "I haven't even done anything."

Averting his gaze once more, Sasuke stabs his finger toward the tall walls of KHS. "Change."

After a moment of stunned silence, Sakura crosses her arms, immediately disobeying. "No thanks."

Eyebrow twitching and eyes still anywhere but her cursedly appealing form, Sasuke takes in a heavy breath to calm himself. "I'm not going to tell you again." He stresses darkly. "Go change. Right now."

"There's nothing wrong with what I'm wearing." Sakura argues, ticking him off even further.

Blood still pumping, Sasuke uncomfortably adjusts the collar of body armor hugging his heated neck. "It isn't appropriate for practice." He insists, eyes drifting to the outfield. Onyx eyes narrow at the ogling of all seven of his players focused on Sakura's perky rear. Do they really have no shame? The distraction of his players only add to his point. Inwardly scoffing and repressing the instinct to hide her bottom from their lecherous gazes, he continues. "Too much of your skin is exposed—you could get seriously hurt."

_Is he worried about me?_ Inner Sakura whispers. But then, with a new wave of anger, she realizes that he's most likely just mad that he isn't getting his way. _He isn't worried about me in the least!_

"Are you saying I'm not tough enough to handle it?" Sakura knows the question is stupid, but she can't help herself. Tenten picked out this bombshell of an outfit, and she'll be damned if she has to change. It makes her feel good, and it's actually quite comfortable. So what if she gets a couple scrapes? She's bound to get scuffed up anyway—_It's baseball, for crying out loud!_

Sasuke jerks his head to face her fully, patience snapping clean in half. "I'm saying you're _ridiculous_."

"Well, _so are you_!" She fires back, ready to unleash the frustration she's held back in the course of these past few days. Hands on her hips in challenge, she leans inward.

Unconsciously, Sasuke leans downward in response, more than happy to oblige to her argument.

"Go. _Change_." He bites through gritted teeth.

"No. _Thanks_." She hisses right back, eyes slit with anger.

Their furious faces are now mere inches apart, lightening crackling perilously between them.

Sasuke shudders with irritation, seething so fiercely that a vein is sure to burst somewhere on his forehead.

_Just who the hell does she think she is?!_

"You have some _nerve_," He breathes deeply, heart racing with adrenaline and wrath. And a bizarre heated desire. "To come onto _my_ field and disrespect me, Sakura."

"Oh, you want to talk about disrespect, do you?" Sakura retorts without a split second of hesitation, face inching even closer. "What about the names you called me yesterday? Or how about how you ran away last night, completely ignoring me? How about the blatant way you are just—just so _impossible_—!"

"_You_," Sasuke snarls in exasperation, chest heaving, leaning even closer. "have no room to talk about being _impossible_. You come to your first practice dressed like—_like_ . . ." Sasuke gestures at her outfit with an almost shy flicker of his eyes downward.

"Like _what_?" Sakura dares him to finish the sentence, a dangerous gleam flashing across her green orbs.

"Like the _annoying_ girl you are."

"Hey!" She gasps, taken aback. By the betrayal in her eyes, Sasuke knows he's just hit the nail on the head. "I told you not to ever call me that!"

Sasuke doesn't reply. Inches apart, they practically breathe fire in each other's faces.

But neither of them back down.

"You are really something else." Sakura eventually whispers, angry green eyes clashing against furious onyx as they glare into each other's fiery souls.

"_As are_ _you_."

There's a heavy silence that falls between them, filled with all the things left unsaid—all the things that really count . . .

_I didn't mean the things that I said. _

"If I would have known joining this team meant being constantly insulted by you, I would've never joined!"

_I never meant to hurt you. _

"Nobody said you had to be a part of this team."

_I didn't mean to judge you right from the start. _

"So you won't mind if I just quit, then, is that right?"

_I really am sorry, Sakura. _

"No, that's—"

_Forgive me, Sasuke-Kun._

"Well lucky for you, I'm no quitter. But I'm no pushover, _either_. You might be the captain of KHS, but I'm Sakura Haruno, and I don't appreciate the way you're talking to me. You make me want to turn around, go home, and never come back. And maybe I should."

. . . but no such words leave their lips.

"_Sakura_," The strength of his voice begins to waver with desperation, composure beginning to crumble beneath the pain in her jade irises. His eyes tighten with frustration, heart rapid firing. Because if she really leaves, it's game over. Not just for him, but for everyone. The next plea out of his mouth sounds foreign even to his own ears, the single word laden with far more vulnerability than he ever meant to reveal out loud.

"**_Please_**—"

There's a quick, forceful shove to Sakura's back, and without warning, without so much as a chance to stop the mind blowing catastrophe that follows next—

Sakura's lips are suddenly pressed to his.

Sealed to Sasuke's mouth.

Eyes blown wide, soft lips firmly locked—horrified onyx stare into terrified jade.

༺º༻

There's a loud collective gasp, followed by ear-prickling screams of terror; the sound of every girl's heart shattering into pieces as the captain of KHS and the Baseball Bachelorette kiss right in front of everyone's disbelieving eyes.

But between just the two of them, between Sasuke and Sakura . . .

The whole world stops.

༺º༻

**A/N**: Uuhhmmmm . . . pls don't kill me. I was lowkey scared to post this chapter but my best friend was like _DEWIT_. So here we are . . . Also this is the longest chapter yet at over 11k words woohoo.

**Please don't forget to review and let me know what you think!**

**Until next time ~**

**Sloshi **


	16. Chapter 15

**A/N:** Just a quick note, many scenes in this fic will be exaggerated just like in the anime, so I hope it doesn't throw anyone off. I know the idea of "accidental" kissing is a bit outlandish, but of course I was inspired by the accidental kiss scene in the actual manga lmao. The way I see this story as i'm writing it, is basically a very high definition version of the anime LOL. (but I mean, ya'll can imagine it however you want ~ ) But anyhow . . . CHEERS!

**~ CAPTAIN! ~**

**CHAPTER 15 **

༺º༻

"Oh, my god!"

"No way!"

"I can't look!"

"My _eyes!_"

"Somebody do something!"

Camera shutter click; flash—click; flash—click; flash.

Meanwhile, a guilty Suigetsu whistles casually, arms behind his head as he surreptitiously inches away from the mess he's just created without being seen.

Around them, all hell breaks loose. The rest of the baseball players stiffen in shock, blinking wildly at the scene just across the field. Naruto blanches, cerulean eyes wide with disbelief.

But Sasuke and Sakura are oblivious; unbeknownst to it all.

With their lips still securely locked, eyes burning into one another, they remain unblinking.

Paralyzed with shock.

The large, warm hands on her bare waist where he had instinctively reached out to catch her, tighten unconsciously.

Small fingers curl into the fabric of his uniform, where she had automatically latched onto his chest to steady herself.

The explosion of butterflies within her stomach flutter along her whole body, bursting along the seams of every nerve. A warmth strikes her chest, zipping through her blood in a frenzy of absolute shock and confusion.

_Is this—really . . . happening?_

Light-headed, her whole body melts into his embrace. With his palms splayed on her bare skin, with the intoxicating scent of his pheromones filling her head with his dizzying proximity—her knees threaten to collapse beneath her, hands curling just a little tighter around the fabric between her fingers to keep from doing just that.

Sakura's eyes flutter shut, unable to focus on anything but the gentle warmth of his lips sloped so softly against hers.

And so she doesn't see that his eyes widen even further, if possible.

_What is she . . ._

Mind totally blank, the captain of KHS has no other choice than to let his body respond in its stead—and that's just what it does.

_. . . doing?_

Allowing instinct to take hold, with a thunder in his chest and his heart thrumming angrily against his ribcage—obsidian eyes slowly . . . _ever so slowly,_ begin to shut, fingers trembling against her soft skin, lips just beginning to press a little firmer against her own in the crazed heat of the moment. Sakura's fingers clutch his uniform tighter, pulling him even closer.

When his heavy eyelids are a centimeter from being completely shut, head beginning to tilt—

A force on Sakura's shoulders rips her backward so fast that they both inhale sharply at the instant loss of physical contact. Two large hands yank her right out of Sasuke's arms and Sakura's back hits the hard surface of someone's chest with a surprised _oof!_

"Just what the hell do you think you're doing?!" Naruto roars somewhere above her head, hands firm and protective on her shoulders. "Are you seriously taking advantage of Sakura-chan?! Right in front of us?! Don't think I didn't see what you just did—!"

"_She's_ the one who took advantage of _him_!" Someone screams from the stands. "I saw it with my own eyes!"

Sasuke looks stunned, eyes wide as if he's still recovering from the loss of warm lips that were sealed against his moments ago.

Or maybe he genuinely has no idea what actually just happened.

"Naruto!" Sakura shrugs off his hands with a furious shake of her shoulders, rage crackling in her eyes. Winding her fist back, she spins around and delivers a punch to his head that launches him clear across the sky, baseball cap flying off somewhere in the distance, before he crash lands far in the outfield with a force that shakes the earth.

There's a unanimous, terrified gasp from the witnesses in the stands.

Behind her, Shino swiftly pulls out a tape measure from god knows where, starting the tape from the back of Sakura's heels and stretching it all the way to where Naruto lays flat on his face, eyes spiraling.

"One hundred and sixteen yards." Shino breathes, snapping the yellow tape back into its coil. "_Amazing_."

Cheeks flushed bright red, Sakura quickly tries to recover. But her hesitant fingers touch her bottom lip, where the ghost of the gentle press of his mouth lingers. She wobbles on her feet in a daze.

_We really . . . _

"It was—It was just an accident!" She hurriedly defends, chest heaving when the reality of the situation crashes down upon her with alarming fright. She swallows. "S-Someone pushed me!"

_. . . _**_kissed_**_._

Neither Sasuke nor Sakura even remember their small argument beforehand, the anger towards one another having snuffed out the moment their lips met like the pinch of a candle flame.

Another girl screams, "Get off the field, you sleaze!"

At this, Sasuke's eyes instantly snap back into focus, whipping his head to the voice that just insulted one of his players.

Sasuke points a dangerous finger to the offending girl, and then gestures to the others, "Leave—all of you. Now."

"What?!" The girls gawk, ugly tears wiggling down their faces. "But, Sasuke-kun—!"

Ominous eyes narrow in warning, jaw tense. "If you're going to insult and distract my players," Through clenched teeth, he emphasizes, "all of you need to leave, _now_."

"Player?" Another girl gasps.

"Is he joking?" Someone whispers frantically as several heads turn to their neighbors, confused.

"Wait, where's Lee?!"

"She got rid of him and stole his spot on the team!" A girl shrieks, jumping to her feet with an accusing finger in response. Waves of terror ripple over everyone's face at the thought.

Finally, over the shrill din, Ami shouts: "There is no way _she _is a _player!_"

"She is." Sasuke says at the same time Sakura exclaims, "I _am_!"

There's a collective inhale, a disbelieving silence, and then—

_"WHAT?!" _

Sakura has half a mind to hide behind Sasuke's back at the sight of thirty faces twisting with outrage, but she isn't a coward. On the contrary, she takes a few bold steps forward, fists on her curved hips, and glares up at every single one of them.

Inner Sakura cracks her knuckles.

(The time has come.)

"That's right." Sakura confirms, smirking in triumph. "It's the truth. I'm on the team." Smirking even wider, she steps back and gestures to Sasuke, who quirks a brow at her strange behavior. "And Sasuke-kun . . ." Here it is. The icing on the cake. The cherry on top. _Sorry, Sasuke-kun, it's for the greater good. "_Is my _personal_ coach."

It feels as if she's just stomped a giant heel into the bleachers with those words, smashing every single one of those evil, malicious faces beneath her ginormous cleat.

_CHA! Take that, you idiots! _Inner Sakura shakes a fist, hair billowing around her raging metaphysical form. _Serves you right for laughing at me, for making fun of me, for being the rudest people ever!_

She sticks out her tongue, throwing out an enthusiastic peace sign, inwardly relishing in the thirty gaping faces in between the V of her fingers.

_I win!_

"Sakura."

She turns around sweetly. "Yes?"

The minute she faces him, her eyes fall to his lips without her permission. All over again, suddenly, she is reminded that only minutes ago, those lips were pressed upon on hers.

_Sasuke-kun and I . . . really kissed!_

Cheeks blossoming pink at the reminder, Sakura doesn't realize Sasuke has just spoken.

She blinks, eyes flicking up to meet the most unimpressed, heavy-lidded glare she's ever seen. "Huh?"

A black brow slightly twitches. "Don't push it."

Sakura waves her hand sheepishly, the corners of her smile wavering. "Ah—right. Maybe I got a little carried away. But don't worry, I have this completely under control." Whirling back around, hands back on her hips, she continues to smirk at the girls' befuddled faces. "As I was _saying_—!"

"That's enough." Sasuke stalks forward, interrupting the Oscar-nominating speech she was just about to give. His rude interjection steamrolls over her inner spirit, flattening it like a pancake. Ignoring the slump of Sakura's shoulders with her sulking sigh, he addresses the girls with a scowl. "I'm not going to tell you again. Leave."

"Buh-bye!" Sakura jumps when Suigetsu appears out of nowhere next to her, the proximity of his booming voice nearly giving her a heart-attack. He smiles, waving at them cheerfully. "Run along, now!" He makes two of his fingers walk along the air, suggesting they do the same. "Before Mother Hen over here pecks you all a new asshole."

Suigetsu prances around flapping his elbows, bobbing his head like a chicken, and purposely ignores the searing glare directed at him by none other than Sasuke himself. Sakura slaps a palm over her mouth, choking on hiccups of laughter, which only serves to feed the angry flames crackling behind the Uchiha like a raging miasma.

"Mother _Hen_?" Comes Sai's voice somewhere behind her. Glancing over her shoulder, she sees him scratching his head in confusion, not understanding the reference to Sasuke's . . . _unorthodox_ hairstyle.

Having just returned from his fist-induced nap, still disoriented as he rubs the lump on his head, Naruto's stomach growls at the mention of chicken.

Neji massages his forehead.

Shikamaru slowly shakes his head in disappointment.

Shino sighs.

༺º༻

When the girls finally take their leave, quickly scuttling away and shrieking in fright when Sasuke had begun to prowl toward them after they refused to budge, Sakura loosens a large breath.

Watching the several backs of the retreating girls as they trip over their feet and run for their lives back to the KHS building, they're no doubt on their way to tell everyone in the world the groundbreaking news, but whatever.

They were going to find out sooner or later. It can't be helped now.

(What a mess.)

In the dugout, Sakura rocks back and forth on her heels as Sasuke prepares a few pieces of paper on a clipboard. The sight is somewhat intimidating, because this either means he's going to be _tracking_ her progress, or actually grading her based on her inevitably humiliating performance.

She doesn't miss the way he avoids looking at her—at her _attire_—at all costs. After that overwhelmingly ridiculous chain of events, she thinks he's too exhausted to argue any further about what she's wearing, because he hasn't said anything since the _fan club_ left. Other than to gesture for her to follow him with the slight tilt of his head, he hasn't spoken a word.

And this worries Sakura.

In the outfield, the guys run regular exercise drills around strategically placed neon cones—keeping far, far away from the captain's silently lethal mood. And _conveniently_ out of their way.

However, Naruto's periodic glare in their direction doesn't escape her. Overall, he seems bothered—or irritated in some strange way, even though he had smiled at her just before jogging back out to the field. But what could he possibly be so upset about? Did she do something to offend him?

_Is he mad because . . . Sasuke and I accidentally kissed?_

_No_, she concludes, frowning down at her foot scuffing against the dugout's cement as she absently reflects on the situation, thinking about those few moments just after he pulled her into his chest. What logical reason would he have to be upset?

She inwardly scoffs, _whenever I find out who pushed me, they better _hope_ and _pray_ they can run faster than me, because when I catch them . . . _

Feeling suddenly glum, Sakura continues to sulk at her feet, unable to stop the unease sprawling deep within her gut.

Because of course, she's always wanted to kiss Sasuke. Always, she has wondered what it would feel like to be in his arms, always wondered about what his lips would feel like upon hers. She's wondered about it for so long—for four whole _years_.

Hell, she's felt this way about him since the very first day he walked through KHS's grandeur double doors, hands in his pockets, and the coolest expression on his face.

_"—last night. I did what I could, but honestly I ended up just falling asleep. I don't know how you do it. I typed up like, three fucking paragraphs and that was it for me. Do you think Kakashi-sensei would give me an extension if I showed him my bra strap?" The paper ruffles in her hands as she looks over the assignment outline once more with a laugh at her own joke. But when she receives no reaction from her pink haired friend, Ino looks up with a blink. "Forehead?" _

_Raising a perfect eyebrow, Ino waves a hand in front of two unblinking green eyes fixed over her shoulder. "Um, hello? Earth to billboard brow. What are you—?" _

_A chorus of screams has Ino jumping out of her skin, platinum ponytail rigid with fright. _

_Whipping her head over her shoulder to follow her friend's trancelike stare and the sudden commotion, her baby blue eyes dart around frantically before they widen like saucers, mouth popping open when she pinpoints the exact source of disturbance._

_Because there, pushing through the giant KHS entrance doors at the very end of the hall, is—_

_Flawlessly disheveled hair as black as night, eyes darker than any shadow and features smoother than marble; the physical embodiment of perfection, and quite possibly the most attractive human the two best friends have ever seen._

_Earphones in his head, hands stuffed in the pockets of his beige slacks (in __KHS__ uniform!), he gracefully saunters down the hallway as if this isn't his first time stepping onto Konoha's turf, as if being a notoriously rich and powerful freshman student, transferred in the middle of the year from KHS's rivalry school, is _**_totally_**_ hunky dory. _

_Having been widely known not only as a prodigious pitcher from SHS, but also as someone whose perfect face frequently appears in news articles and headlines regarding his influential family._

_In short, he is no stranger to the public eye. _

_As a result, having underestimated the magnitude of his reputation, he's unprepared when he is instantly intercepted by a gathering crowd, surrounded by myriads of heart-eyes and ear piercing squeals of excitement. _

_"No way!"_

_"Oh my god, are you really—?!"_

_"Uuaahh ~ so cool!"_

_The male students—whom have just lost the attention of their female counterparts in favor of swooning over KHS's new arrival—sneer enviously as they murmur to one another. _

_"What the fuck is that douchebag doing here?"_

_"He should have stayed at SHS where a daddy's boy like him belongs."_

_"Did—Did he really transfer from Sound?"_

_Sakura and Ino can only watch in awe from a distance, along with the many other students who are unable to do anything except gawk at the individual who just walked through their very own doors. _

_Popping out his earphones, with a scowl—and a splash of surprise—his head swivels left to right as if he is genuinely taken off guard by the sudden flock of students, attempting to recoil from the buzzing swarm._

_There's a hint of fluster to his face as he backs away from them, palms raised and defensive, but the crowd merely pushes forward in response, invading his personal space without shame. _

_After many moments of struggle and much confusion, he is forced to finally shoulder his way through an opening. _

_And then he makes a run for it—bolting down the hallway at top speed._

_"No way . . . Isn't that—?!" Ino gapes, paper drifting from her hands and swept out onto the linoleum, long forgotten. _

_Heart hammering within her ribcage with every speedy step that draws him closer, girls hot on his heels in their pursuit, Sakura squeezes her books to her chest, short of breath._

_He runs and runs, dress shoes clacking rapidly against the tile before suddenly— _

_The moment he races past them, time winds down to an exaggerated crawl in which she can see his every detail in high definition. Glittering green eyes watch the black tresses flutter in slow motion around the desperation on his face mid-run. _

_Wide eyes fixed on the long corridor before him, he doesn't notice the two gaping girls off to the side, holding their breath as he swiftly glides right past them. _

_"Sasuke Uchiha." Sakura breathes._

The innocent vulnerability on his face had ingrained itself in her memory then; so curiously different than the usual detached, almost robotic, expression he wore in every photograph posted online, in newspapers, even sometimes on TV—in that moment, as he slowly slid by her captivated eyes, she caught a glimpse not of someone arrogant. Not someone pompous or conceited in his birth-given limelight as he appeared to be in every photograph and described by every media outlet.

She caught a glimpse—not of the shell painted by the bias of the public. Not of someone empty.

But rather someone . . .

_Real_.

And from that moment on, for some reason—for some _stupid_, ungodly reason—she's always felt an undeniable pull towards him.

As if the universe itself were screaming at her in that moment that he was—_will_ be—important to her some day in some personal way, shape, or form.

(And not just because he's hot.)

Every time that she saw the top of his silky black spikes somewhere down the hallway, at lunch, in class, or anytime she happened to accidentally snatch a glimpse of him; her heart ached with the longing to be near him.

But of course, she never acted on such impulses. Never would she be caught dead groveling at his feet; never would she attempt to follow him home like many girls have been caught doing so countless times before.

Never would she stuff confessions in his locker until it was bursting at the seams with colorful construction paper and chalked full of homemade chocolates that she's never even seen him eat.

(But she always saw the cutesy, colorful packages sitting untouched and pretty in the trash bin, along with the glimmering tears of the unfortunate girl who slaved over them just the night before.)

Never did she go out of her way to inconvenience Sasuke. Not because she didn't want his attention, but because she hoped to be one less nuisance in his already complicated life. Because he didn't deserve to be harassed every hour of every day, especially when she came to realize he so clearly loathed the attention.

Instead, other than that single time she bravely attempted to greet him (and failed miserably), she ogled from afar; wishing, hoping, and wishing some more for just one chance—one opportunity to maybe get to know him beyond what his reputation entailed.

But Sakura knew, despite how innocent the wish may have been, that someone like her would never be given the chance.

After all, he had everything—looks, wealth, reputation, skill, intelligence; he was _somebody_.

And she had been nobody.

A nobody with nothing—nothing except, perhaps, the ability to trip over invisible objects.

Sakura knew without a shadow of a doubt that there would never be anything in the world that could possibly connect someone as ordinary as she, to someone as extraordinary as him.

But even so, despite this, the genuine fear on his face that day four years ago made her wonder—wonder that, just maybe, he wasn't the conceited robot the media had made him out to be. That maybe, just maybe, he's a little more ordinary than he lets on.

Because what egotist runs away from the spotlight? Away from dozens of swooning, pretty girls vying for his attention?

What conceited jerk chooses not to snatch an opportunity to shine?

On the contrary, it was as if he hadn't wanted anything to _do_ with being Sasuke Uchiha.

The concept only made her heart ache for him further. Pity him, even.

For a while, as the time passed, she assumed that such a silly crush would dissipate; that maybe one day she would wake up and decide that Sasuke Uchiha isn't all that great after all.

Because as it was, the news of him over the next few months had dampened (but only slightly.) His arrival had been the new rage at the time—_exciting_.

The news of Fugaku Uchiha's son, the formally esteemed captain of SHS, and the ruthless way in which the Uchiha swiped the captain position right from under Neji Hyuuga's nose—made all of KHS explode in a single day. It was no surprise that it took an extended period of time for a school like KHS to adjust to such a thrillingly scandalous event.

So logically, Sakura presumed her nonsensical feelings would _also_ taper off along with the school's adjustment.

But after watching him pitch for the first time, after witnessing the concentration glistening in his eyes as his toned body wound back in anticipation with all the grace of a god—she realized no such thing would ever happen.

And there was really no reason for it, considering he hadn't even spoken a single word to her. Hadn't even looked her way once.

Nonetheless, like all the other girls of KHS, Sakura only found herself infatuated with him the more that time went on—with the sultry darkness in his eyes and the alluring mystery of his hidden personal life, she couldn't help but wonder about him.

And secretly about how his lips would feel on hers.

But now this . . .

This wasn't at _all_ how she imagined their first kiss would be. (Let alone believed it would ever actually happen at all.)

Not only this, but it was forced. It wasn't a kiss full of love, or flowery affection. It wasn't romantic. Hell, it wasn't even intentional.

It wasn't . . .

_How our first kiss should have happened._

And Sasuke—

Her eyes widen as she replays the kiss over in her head, recounting all the details she might have missed in the electrifying shock of the moment. She remembers the long fingers that tightened on her waist, the slight pressure of his warm lips just beginning to press deeper against hers—

Then, it hits her; like a splash of icy water to the face, something fiercely alarming dawns on her.

In wake of her sudden realization, a flurry of butterflies explode inside her stomach, breath hitching in awe.

_Didn't he . . . kiss me _**_back_**_?_

Glancing up at him beneath thick lashes, she watches the concentration carve his features as he focuses on scribbling something down on the clipboard. He pauses to look at her when he feels her unabashed gaze.

When she doesn't speak, an impatient frown tugs his lips: "What?"

"You kissed me." She accuses without shame, straight-backed and absolute.

The moment the words leave her mouth, she realizes she could have approached the subject with a little more finesse. But it doesn't matter; she knows if she doesn't address it bluntly, Sasuke will pretend it never happened.

She isn't going to pretend.

And maybe it isn't a big deal to him, maybe something so frivolous as an accidental press of the lips can be easily disregarded by someone like him.

_But that was my first kiss. _

The way he stiffens at her accusation—almost dropping his clipboard in surprise—confirms her suspicion. Heart pounding, she sharply inhales.

_. . . Was it also his?_

"No, I didn't." He denies when he readjusts himself, clearing his throat and returning his eyes to the clipboard that nearly fumbled out of his hands. "And don't ever repeat something like that again."

Encouraged by his defensive response and not the least bit intimidated by his poker face, she shuffles closer to him, a smug smile spreading across her lips. She links her hands together at her side, leaning in. "I think you _did_, Sasuke-kun."

Dark bangs hiding his eyes, recoiling from her mischievous grin, Sasuke spins around, giving her his broad, uniformed back.

Cheeks flushed with mirth, emboldened by his uncharacteristic behavior, Sakura simply shuffles around to his front, ready to tease him further. But her smile drops when she sees his shadowed expression.

"H-Hey . . . " She begins softly, worry knotting her stomach. She had no idea something like this would actually upset him. "What's wrong? Are you—?"

She tries to peek underneath the dark curtain of bangs hiding his expression, seriously concerned.

That is—until she sees the light color staining his cheeks.

_Oh!_

When Sasuke swiftly spins on his heel to face the opposite direction—as if he's _hiding_ from her prying gaze—Sakura lets out a soft gasp, white teeth emerging with a cheeky grin.

Although pleasantly surprised at her new discovery that the captain of KHS is genuinely _embarrassed, _she can't help but feel relieved that he's okay, and not upset.

"There's no need to be so shy, Sasuke-kun." She teases affectionately, clasping her hands together against her cheek, smile widening before she breaks into small hiccups of light laughter.

"_Focus_, Sakura." She's too busy giggling to notice the strange waver of his voice, nor the growing redness of his ears. Then, for the record, he jerks his chin away from her and clarifies coldly: "It was an accident and you know that. So don't go bothering me about things that never happened."

Just then, a cringeworthy thought strikes her conscious like a viper, wiping the amusement clean off her face. If the act of kissing alone is enough to fluster him this terribly, she tries not to think about how he must have felt when he read her _note_.

_Oh, dear gods. _

She can just picture his brain going blank at her scribbled words—the raw, physical embarrassment he must have felt. Seeing his reaction now to something so innocent, he must have nearly had an aneurysm at her _naughty_, absolutely shameless confession.

_'Then why was the bastard so embarrassed?' _Naruto's voice floats across her memory._ 'I _know_ he was. He's my best friend, there's nothing he can hide from me. And I've _never_ seen him like that . . .'_

_Oh, Sasuke-kun_, she thinks sympathetically as she looks up at his tense back, where he's straining to keep his respectful eyes on his clipboard and not daring a single glance back at her half naked body.

_'. . . I've _**never**_ seen him like that . . .' _

Naruto's voice ricochets off the walls of her conscious, relaying those specific words over and over again. Every repetition hits her a little harder each time.

Taking pity on him, Sakura relents with a heavy sigh.

(Now she just feels awful.)

If he's genuinely this uncomfortable with the subject, and so adamant in pretending such an accident never occurred, then perhaps it's best if she, too, leaves it alone for the sake of his feelings. Even if she will never forget the feel of his lips upon hers, or the fingers that pressed into her bare skin.

She shudders at the memory, sinful heat pooling in her abdomen.

It might have been only an accident, but—

_"A girl can dream." _She grumbles inaudibly from the corner of her mouth.

"What was that?"

"N-Nothing!" Sakura quickly smiles, crossing her arms in an _X _as if to defend herself from his suspicious eyes. Suddenly curious, she peeks around his arm at the clipboard. "What are you doing, anyway?"

Glowering at her from the corner of his eye, his shoulders slump as he releases a heavy breath in defeat. "We're going to have to track your progress." He explains, leaning a little toward her to allow her a better look at the paper.

Immediately, however, Sakura is distracted by the intensity of his scent—_is he seriously wearing cologne or is that just how he always smells or something?_—and the natural warmth of his close proximity. Her eyes study his strong forearms concealed by tight body armor, where they unconsciously flex as he speaks.

Against her will, her eyes fall to his silver belt buckle. Rolling her tongue against the inside of her cheek, she gulps. _I wonder—_

"Clearly, you are not anywhere near qualified for an official game. Physically, that is." He glances sideways at her, careful to keep his eyes solely on her face no matter how desperately his manhood insists on traveling lower. No matter how vehemently his eyes insist on sneaking just a peek at her cleavage, the dip of her navel, the fullness of her upper thighs . . .

Gaze flicking back to the clipboard with immoral reluctance, he swallows.

"As . . ." It's a conscious effort to remember what he's saying. But it's _far _more challenging than he dares to admit with a half naked girl hovering over his arm, a girl whose lips were just on his, and a girl who wantonly confessed she would pull him between her thighs and—he swallows again, choosing not to acknowledge the sweat gathering in his palms. Clearing his throat a little, he tries again. "As a result . . . we're going to have to run you through the basics."

"I see," She breathes absently, pulling her eyes with great effort from his belt to dart across the complex charts on the paper, completely unaware of the Uchiha's own inner struggle. "Looks like . . ."_ I'm going to die_. "fun."

"_Hm_," Sasuke hums after several moments, the ghost of a smirk playing on his lips when he finally collects himself. "You have no idea."

Looking down at the sudden fright on her face, Sasuke silently huffs in amusement, feigning surprise. "You didn't think this was going to be easy, did you?"

"Um—well, I . . . " Green eyes drop to her feet before glancing back up at him, a sheepish shade of pink painting her cheeks as she twiddles her thumbs in her lap. At the smug look on his face, she lifts a hand to push a strand of pink hair behind her ear and averts her gaze once more.

Inwardly amused by her sudden change in demeanor, he then shakes his head, mouth straining with the effort to keep the smirk on his face from growing into an entertained half-smile as he watches the guilt play across her features. "Thought so."

But when his eyes naturally begin to travel down her neck again, to her deep cleavage, his gaze snaps up and he looks away with a frustrated scoff. "You really do look ludicrous, Sakura."

"Thank you." She replies sweetly, eyes crinkling in delight, "I try."

He ignores her irritating retort. "Ready?"

"As I'll ever be." She goes to reach into her bag to pull out her newly purchased glove, only for Sasuke to shake his head.

"We aren't doing that just yet."

"Oh, okay." Slowly backing away from the bench, a single pink eyebrow hitches. "Then . . . what _am_ I doing, exactly?"

The dark, wicked smirk curving one side of his mouth, and the mischievous gleam playing in his onyx orbs has Sakura wishing she never asked at all.

༺º༻

"You're joking."

The dead serious look on Sasuke's face suggests anything but.

"Really?"

He nods.

"_Ten_?"

Another nod.

_I thought I was playing baseball, not running freaking track!_

(Seriously, what did she even get herself into?)

Sakura groans, head dramatically thrown back in exasperation as she stands on home base. She closes her eyes against the sinking sun, sky barely kissed orange. It isn't all that hot today, for which she is thankful; the last thing she wants is for Sasuke to see her looking like a sweaty pink rat.

For a moment, she wonders if this is just petty revenge for her love letter—which, by the way, was _not_ a love letter. Or maybe he's just punishing her because he feels like it; because he's the coach and she's the player.

_I get that he hates me, but is this really necessary? This is totally abuse of power!_

Shooting a glare in his direction, Sasuke simply stares back from where he stands a little ways off to the side to oversee her imminent doom. The most intimidating man in all of Konoha casually judging what she's the absolute worst at.

_Exercise. _

"When I begin the timer, that's when you run." He explains, holding up the circular stopwatch with one hand, clipboard in the other. "Not hard." And then after a moment of hesitation, he adds with a slight cock of his arrogant head: "Well, maybe for you."

"Very funny."

"I try." He sarcastically mocks her earlier words, glancing down at his clipboard as if grading her performance is the most boring thing he's ever done. "Now, I'm not going to repeat myself, so pay attention."

Sakura frowns.

"What if I have questions?"

Dark eyes flick up to meet hers in surprise and . . . Is that a hint of eagerness in his eyes?

"Do you?"

"Well . . . not yet—"

"Then be quiet." He goes right back to whatever is so important on his stupid paper. Sakura scowls despite the sudden intrigue she feels at the glimpse of disappointment she caught in his eyes at her response. Like he _wants_ her to ask him questions about baseball.

Like he's secretly thrilled to teach her the one thing he's passionate about.

"Like I said, I'll only say this once—so listen carefully." He continues, "I know that you're fast"—she blushes slightly at his unexpected small praise—"but I just need to track how fast you can make it to home base. Speed is important when traveling the bases, especially when the opposing team is racing to get you out. But, most importantly, if you can make it to home base faster than they can get the ball back in the in-field, that's the ultimate goal. Does this make sense?"

Sakura nods, and then frowns. "Yes, but . . . What does that have to do with me running _ten_ laps?"

"Stamina."

"Huh?"

Beneath his dark bangs, an eyebrow raises slightly. "From what I've seen, you have zero stamina. In baseball, stamina is crucial if you're running to catch a ball, or traveling bases. If you're out of breath before you even reach third base . . . "

The implication isn't lost on Sakura. "Are you saying I won't even make it to third base?"

"I'm saying you're not exactly an athlete, and in comparison, small, realistic goals that are easy for us are not going to be . . . as easy for you, just yet."

Sakura crosses her arms, genuinely offended by the fact that he seriously thinks she can't even make it that far, even after she showed him firsthand exactly what she's capable of. He's crudely underestimating her—_again_. "I can make it to third base just fine."

"I'm just saying." He says coldly, hackles raised and suddenly defensive. "You're getting upset over nothing."

"I'm not upset." Sakura bristles in response to his abrupt attitude. It's not that she's upset, per se, but rather the fact that he's treating her like she isn't capable of running such a meager distance—does he seriously not even realize how insulting that assumption is? He doesn't get it. And it's definitely not _nothing_.

"Clearly, you are." He insists.

Tongue loose, she snaps. "Since when are you such an _expert_ at reading minds? Last I checked, you still don't know anything about me. So how would even begin to know how I _feel_?"

Sasuke blinks before pinching the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes in exasperation. _Am I not making myself clear?_ "I'm just telling you, some things are going to be harder for you than for us. You said it yourself that you've never played baseball in your entire life. And yet, you insisted on joining my team, so let me finish explaining everything before you open your big _mouth_."

At the sudden silence, his eyes crack back open.

The dejected, hurt expression on her face as she studies the dirt makes words fall out of his mouth without regard, dreading a repeat of the last time he hurt her feelings. He isn't quite used to taming his tongue, but if it means she'll stay on the team, he's willing to try. "That's—I didn't mean—"

"It's fine." She whispers in a way that shifts something deep within his stomach. He tells himself that those two words are enough; tells himself that just because she claims she's fine that she must be—and if she isn't, well . . .

It isn't his problem.

But her sad green eyes focusing on the dusty white diamond of home plate forces him to try again despite himself.

"Sakura—"

"It's okay, I didn't mean to jump to conclusions. I just . . . " She bites her lip, avoiding his gaze. He probably doesn't even realize why the comment about not reaching third base hurts her feelings. Or maybe he just doesn't care. "I feel like you don't really take me seriously. Or, you know . . . " Her next words are soft and quiet, eyes still downcast. ". . . believe in me."

His eyes widen. Taken aback, Sasuke is uncomfortably at loss for words. He doesn't know why this in particular bothers him, slightly offends him, but it does. It feels as if those words sucker punch in him the gut; feels as if those words carry the weight of something far deeper than what his keen eyes can see.

After a moment's pause, Sasuke finally answers, slowly but carefully.

"You misunderstand." He takes a few hesitant steps toward her, slightly closing the small distance between them. "I want you to succeed. If I didn't believe you could do this, I wouldn't have agreed to let you be a part of my team. You are . . ." He swallows his pride, reluctance lacing his next confession as he casually averts his gaze, lightly clearing his throat before returning his eyes to her glum expression, "far better than I thought you would be."

Head snapping up, she finally looks at him, eyes glittering with innocent surprise. "You promise?"

Unprepared, the candor sweetness on her features astound him. Large green orbs alight with a childlike eagerness has the back of his neck increasing in temperature.

A small, inaudible breath escapes his throat.

It's suddenly a genuine effort to keep the side of his mouth from quirking in amusement at her purity, and the hope sparkling in her eyes is enough to make him wonder.

_Does my word really mean that much to her?_

"I promise."

A smile that rivals the sun lights Sakura's whole face in response, filling her chest with sweet warmth, and for a moment, she swears the edges of his eyes begin to soften_—_

"_Sasuke_ and _Sakura_, sitting in a tree," Kiba sings across the field, just to spite them. "K-I-S-S-I-N—_Fuck_!" Naruto sticks out a long leg, effectively tripping him mid-run.

"I can't tell if I like him or hate him." Sakura comments dryly, staring out at the field at the duo's idiocy as Kiba jumps back up and tackles the blond with a snarl. Neji and Shikamaru neatly jog around them, while Sai and Shino give pause in concern. Suigetsu obnoxiously points, holding his stomach with wild laughter.

"Which one?"

"Both." Sakura laughs, sharing a fond side glance with a smirking Sasuke.

The sudden, strangely pleasant occurrence jolts them both. With her blushing and him shifting uncomfortably, they quickly clear their throats, back to buisness.

"When does my time start?" She asks, a little nervous. Even though she was _somehow_ able to catch that ball (twice now that luck was on her side), she isn't quite sure how well she will do with this next task. Sure, she told Sasuke off for not thinking she could do it, but . . .

What if she _doesn't_ make it to third base, just like he implied?

(The seed of doubt sprouts within her.)

_What if—? _

"Now." His thumb clicks the stopwatch.

"Hey—!" Sakura splutters, arms flailing, totally unprepared. "I wasn't ready!"

_He didn't even give me time to mentally prepare or—!_

Sasuke simply holds up the stopwatch, showing her the rapidly ticking time she's currently wasting without a lick of shame.

"Shit!" Sakura takes off running. "Come on, Sasuke-kun! That wasn't even fair!" She calls over her shoulder, even as her legs pump wildly to first base.

His lips twitch upward at her exasperation, onyx eyes following her desperately running form.

Sakura's cleat taps first base before she curves her way around the field to second, pink ponytail bouncing behind her with every step.

Sasuke deliberately ignores the obnoxious jump of her breasts.

"I'm glad—this is—entertaining for you!" She yells through huffs of air, glimpsing over and catching the subtle smirk on his face from across the field before it can vanish.

He shrugs innocently, eyes glancing down to watch the time tick by. "You asked for it."

_Touché_.

By the time her foot hits second base, she realizes, with dread plunking into her stomach, that the spaces between bases are much, _much_ further apart than they look from the bleachers.

She's already slowing down, and she hasn't even finished a single lap.

"Sasuke-kun!" She calls, heart pounding viciously.

He looks back up in question just as her foot leaves second base.

"Thank you!"

Confused, he doesn't answer.

"For—letting me on the team—I mean!" The words puff out of her mouth, attempting to distract herself from the strenuous burning in her calves as she nears third base. She should have warmed up; she should have done _something_ to prepare. She knows for a fact that if her legs are already feeling like this, she probably isn't even going to be able to walk tomorrow.

_God, I really hate being so out-of-shape._

Attempting to dampen her panic, she tries to control her breathing—just like Mom taught her—but she realizes that she doesn't have nearly even half as much adrenaline as she did when she raced to catch the ball yesterday.

_It's different_, she surmises, discouraged by this awful fact.

But why? Is it because she isn't chasing a ball? Is it because the pressure isn't as suffocating as it was before?

_Sasuke's right_, she realizes with much reluctance, _I might have speed, but my endurance totally sucks!_

As her legs continue to pump as fast as she can manage, anxiety thrums through her mind and body, courage wilting even further.

Behind home plate, Sasuke remains silent, dark orbs simply watching her physically and mentally exert herself. Aside from taking a single glance at the stop watch, his sharp, calculating eyes don't leave her form.

By the time her cleats draw near the third white diamond, Sakura is sure she's going to die.

_The bases . . . Why did they look so much closer together before—?!_

Looking over her shoulder, distracted by the mind-boggling mystery of the sudden gigantic space that stretches between bases, the tip of Sakura's cleat catches the padded platform of third base—

—and she goes flying forward.

Rolling head over heels several times, world flipping, Sakura splutters when a cloud of dust settles over her graceless form splayed face down in the dirt, just inches shy from the soft bed of grass.

(So much for making third base.)

Sasuke is crouching at her side before she can even register the gritty dust in her mouth, dark eyes searching her whole body for damage. "Are you alright?"

Concerned when she doesn't answer at first, he reaches out to swipe the pink curtain of hair away from the side of her face to see any injury for himself. Seeing none, he quickly retracts his hand before she can comprehend that he's even touched her.

Eyes pinched shut, finally lifting her head with great effort, she gags on the wonderful bit of dirt that she's just eaten.

Sasuke shifts his weight back onto his heels, elbows resting on his bent knees, and releases a heavy breath; relieved that she hasn't already killed herself.

"_Ugh_—" She coughs out a puff of dust, croaking a little late in response to his question: "Peachy."

"Whoah, Pinky!" Suigetsu exclaims from somewhere in the outfield, eyebrows shooting up beneath the curved rim of his hat. "You good?"

Naruto's worry joins him not a second later, panic bursting through his deep voice as if to challenge Suigetsu's. "Sakura-chan, are you okay?!"

Just as Naruto prepares to sprint across the field to her aid, a tan arm shoots out across the blond's chest, stopping him in place.

"Don't." Kiba demands, suspiciously eyeing the Uchiha's form hovering over the girl.

_For someone who supposedly hates her, he was pretty damn quick to be at her side, _Kiba muses, thinking back to Sakura's words the night before.

_'It doesn't matter because Sasuke-kun hates me . . . '_

Naruto furrows his blond brows in confusion, frowning at his friend, "But Sakura-chan—"

Kiba shakes his head.

The rest of the team pause in the middle of their active drill to see the damage for themselves.

"What happened?" Sai asks quietly, worried.

Shino shrugs.

"I didn't see." Neji comments.

Shikamaru frowns, craning his neck a little to see for himself. "She alright?"

Sakura's face slumps back into the dirt.

Elbows still casually resting on his knees, Sasuke looks up to assure his team with a nod, sighing once more as he half-shouts across the field for them to hear, "She's fine."

Slowly raising from his crouch, he reaches out to grab her elbow just in time to help pull her back onto her feet. He does another once over of her half exposed body when she regains balance, taking note the layer of dirt coating the entire front of her new uniform and not letting his eyes wander a second more.

He doesn't look at the gritty dust sticking to the sheen of sweat on her abdomen, nor the perspiration glistening on the exposed V of her heaving chest.

Sasuke makes sure that she is, in fact, unharmed, before mentally confirming that all hope lost.

"Well," he begins quietly for her sake, leading her back to home base where he picks up the clipboard he had all but thrown to the side in his haste to make sure she hadn't just broken her neck. He scribbles something depressing on the paper. "It's a start."

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**A/N:** Hopefully you guys enjoyed this chapter, because I totally enjoyed writing it lmfaooo.

**Please don't forget to leave a review and let me know what you think :D**

**Till next time**

**Sloshi ~**


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